Renegade
by Zeppelin Skies
Summary: "I swear to God, if you pull some shit like this again, I'm going to find the steak knife I know you have stashed in the lining of your mattress and kill you myself." H.M. "Howlin' Mad" Murdock has learned to trust his sister in most situations. The day Hannibal Smith comes to Sonora, Mexico is no exception. Face/Sosa, eventual Face/OC
1. A Basket Case and a Half

**Summary: "I swear to God, if you pull some shit like this again, I'm going to find the steak knife I** _ **know**_ **you have stashed in the lining of your mattress and kill you myself."** **H.M. "Howlin' Mad" Murdock has learned to trust his sister in most situations. The day Hannibal Smith comes to Sonora, Mexico is no exception.**

 **AN: Well, I have no excuse for this really. Just an idea that won't leave me alone for a movie that should've gotten way more recognition than it did. This won't be a copy of the movie though. Future chapters are going to go into the eight years the team were completing missions and getting to know each other along the way.**

* * *

 _ **Renegade**_

Chapter I: A Basket Case and a Half

 _ **Hospital San Vicente de Paulo**_ _ **  
**_ _ **U.S. Army Meddac  
Sonora, Mexico  
1100 Hours**_

"I swear to God, if you pull some shit like this again, I'm going to find the steak knife I _know_ you have stashed in the lining of your mattress and kill you myself."

"I'll have to call your bluff on that, Louanne, seeing as you never pulled a weapon on anyone in your life, let alone me…unless you count that time we were fighting with celery sticks and carrots and you managed to knock me off my chair and I fell and my carrot broke—"

The woman sighed tightly as she pinched the bridge of her nose. With her eyes closed, she willed herself the patience to work through the tantamount of frustration threatening to burst. She could already feel her eye beginning to twitch at the utterance of that _damned nickname_.

"…To be fair, that was last week on Stew Day, but that sure was some fun—"

 _How he snuck a steak knife in here from the cafeteria, I'll never want to know_ , she thought. _He's freaking Houdini._

They didn't even allow the patients to use anything other than plastic.

"H.M.," she cut him off swiftly, "you _cannot_ make a bicycle out of Mr. Freddie's wheelchair!"

"Aw, he didn't mind. Just wanted it back by Sunday for his mornin' stroll. I would've FedEx'ed it back more or less in time." Her brother's face feigned innocence as he sat on his cot, but the laughter in his green eyes made her roll hers. "It woulda been in pieces since it would cost extra to ship something that big, but it woulda been on time!"

"I'll admit it was creative, though not as good as the last one…"

 _That_ had given her a heart attack. Suffice to say, they'd had to invest in a new defibrillator and a new motor for the van he tried to resuscitate.

"But sooner or later when Decklan gets some hard evidence, he's going to deem me unfit to take care of you if you keep pulling escape stunts like this," she said, looking down sharply at him, but her demeanor softened when he grew tense. He knew where she was going with this, and he hated the thought more than she did. But at the same time, she saw the obstinate defiance in his gaze.

"I have to get outta here, Laura." His tone was uncharacteristically devoid of expression other than the slightly vacant (haunted) quality his eyes took on when they shifted from her to the white walls surrounding them. The plainness, the suffocating air, the barred windows.

She knew, and she hated them too.

"I know. But for right now, at least we're finally together, yeah?"

After he was declared clinically insane and given medical leave indefinitely, Laura fought tooth and nail to have him released into her care. What made things difficult was how at first, she argued that he wasn't insane. His numerous escape attempts, resilience to electroshock therapy, and hallucinations spoke to the contrary. Laura was forced to change her case if she was to have any hope of even being able to see H.M., though he only allowed her to call him that.

To everyone else, he was Captain Murdock. Or if you were a fellow patient on agreeable terms with him—Murdock.

It took her a year and four months to convince the judge that as a certified United States Army Nurse, specialized in psychiatric-mental health, she was adequately qualified to oversee her brother's medical state. Though she was denied permission to house him on her own due to his occasional violent episodes (a particularly condescending major general made the point that, while she was an officer, she was not similarly military trained in combat), when he was transferred from the Veterans Administration (VA) Psychiatric Hospital to an Army Hospital in Sonora, Mexico, she was given a position and put in charge of his medical care, including prescriptions and mandatory monthly tests.

Under no circumstance would his treatment be handled by another practitioner without her consent, but in turn, Dr. Richard Decklan would be her overseer to make sure her "familial bias" didn't cloud her judgment.

Murdock sighed and fingered the corner of her clipboard that had been unceremoniously tossed on the cot in her state of agitation.

"I know, but this isn't a life either of us is living, little sister," he said. Then, as soon as his bout of solemnity began, it was gone when he nearly leapt to a stand. Dulled to his eccentric behavior, she didn't start, merely lifted a brow at him as he gave her a boyish grin. Laura didn't let on how his words affected her, pierced her deeply and wove into her thoughts.

"I think I'll go see if Freddie wants a game of Scrabble while we wait for our feast of three-day-old Salisbury steak and runny potatoes. Stay out of trouble now, ya hear?" Murdock patted her on the head and, before Laura could get a word in edge-wise, was out the door.

She sighed once again at his retreating form and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I need a fucking vacation," she muttered to herself.

No, what they needed was a way out. Try as she may to ignore what he said, what she'd been pushing down in her mind with false hopes of things getting better, this was no place for either of them. Her brother was an excellent soldier. Eccentric and unorthodox, maybe, but he _wasn't_ insane. Her own diagnosis had fallen on deaf ears.

Post-Traumatic Stress may have been the case at first, they'd said, but of course, because they had several years more experience and education, their opinion overruled hers, even if she was his sister. She agreed he needed medication, but not what the psychiatrists at the VA had been force-feeding him for over a year before she (and her lawyer) put an end to it.

Laura found herself walking out of the room once she shook her head of these thoughts, pausing to grab her clipboard. It had some papers that needed to be taken down to reception.

* * *

There was a mischievous gleam in his eye as he strolled down the corridor.

 _Having your sister on staff does come with its perks._

Namely her ring of keys that she hardly noticed missing from her pocket. It allowed him to get into a supply closet and borrow a set of scrubs, a paper mask, and for good measure, a stethoscope to hang around his neck. That last one he had procured from her desk, and how easy that was when the rest of the on-hand staff thought you were a doctor! They really made things too easy.

While Murdock really had heard Laura's warning, this was an idea he simply _couldn't_ pass up. He'd been planning it for days, and really, one more outing for the week couldn't hurt. He'd be meeting his quota of at least five incidents per month. And besides, there was no way Decklan could prove Laura facilitated his escapes, or encouraged them in any way. That was only half true at most anyway.

He snuck into one of the main halls toward reception. He snickered a little to himself once the exit was in view.

 _It's almost too easy!_

Until a strong, tan arm blocked his way, lightly gripping his shoulder.

"Oh hey, Doc, you got a second for a wounded vet?" the man asked. He was young, bright blue eyes that matched his shirt staring at him in askance. He smelled a little weird to Murdock, but seemed pleasant enough.

"Step into my office."

* * *

Laura's small heels clicked against the floor as her brusque pace came to a stop at the reception desk. There was a group of people swarming the area, but she managed to get through to the front and get the attention of one of the receptionists.

"Hey Rita, where's Decklan? He said he wanted me to meet him here at one," she asked. Rita stopped entering information on the computer in front of her and glanced over at the nurse.

"He and some guy went into his office, they're waiting for you I think," she said, and went back to her task. Laura thanked her and went across the hall, not bothering to knock as she entered her boss' office.

Dr. Decklan, a middle-aged man with a greying hairline, who suffered (in her opinion) from an obnoxious personality. He stood next to a taller man of similar age, but muscular build. He seemed a little worse for wear in a dusty blue button-up shirt and worn jeans, but exuded a manner of confident leadership that made her pause. This was a military man.

"…My kinda guy," he said as he looked over a file in his hand, but the two looked over upon hearing her come in.

"Ah, there you are," said Decklan. He glanced over at her before gesturing to the man. "This is Lieutenant Laura Murdock, my assistant…and the patient's sister. Laura, this is Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith."

The name sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. Though she was instantly on-guard at the mention of her brother, she greeted the colonel with respect.

"Sir," she said, and shook his hand firmly. His gaze was of interest, but he caught the suspicion in hers.

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant. I've heard positive things about you," he said. She raised a brow.

"Really now?" she said, and her suspicion moved from the colonel to Decklan, who looked annoyed. "Does this have anything to do with my brother?"

"Yes. I'm putting a team together, a Special Forces unit, and I need a pilot," said Hannibal. He looked down at her with kinder eyes when he saw the hope in hers. "I hear Captain H.M. Murdock is the best Ranger pilot in the Air Force."

"He _is_ the best," Laura agreed, and her eyes widened at the implication of his words. Hannibal gave her a knowing smile.

"He is being reinstated to join me, and you're being transferred out of Mexico." She gave him an incredulous look, though she felt tears beginning to sting in her eyes despite how she was fighting to keep her emotions under control.

"Are…are you serious?" she stammered.

"Very much so. After some…negotiations, U.S. Marshals have approved of his discharge from this facility," Smith said. The wheels in Laura's mind were still trying to catch up with her heart that was now beating fairly quickly.

"But…how? How could you have possibly gotten that approved?"

Her eyes caught Decklan's for a moment. It appeared he was just as disbelieving, as well as irritated. When she looked back up at the colonel, there was no wavering in his gaze, or any hint of mischief or deception.

"I can be persuasive," he said with a small smirk, "and from the beginning they offered me an unhindered choice of who could be a part of my team."

She stared into those solid blue eyes, sincere without a shadow of a doubt. Finally, in what seemed to be months, she gave a wobbly smile, even as she heard her breaths coming out more shallowly and felt her hands beginning to tremble.

"I'm being transferred too?" she asked shakily. He nodded, and caught her arm gently to steady her when he saw her begin to waver.

"Back into the field, Lieutenant," he said. "You are still legally obligated to oversee your brother's medical treatment when he needs it, so for the time being you'll be commissioned where we will be. Is that a problem?"

Laura shook her head, even as one or two tears found their way down their cheeks. She brushed them aside and said, "No sir, that won't be a problem."

"Good, then let's go find him," he said. She smiled, but before she followed him out, first turned to the doctor giving her a wry look.

"Looks like you got what you wanted," he said flatly. "If he has an episode and gets someone killed, it's on you."

There was a time when he had sympathized with them, even gone so far as to evaluate Murdock himself. But after Murdock's reenactment of entire episodes from House M.D., interspersed with his aversion to sedatives given via syringe that quickly went down the road of "violent defense," the doctor hadn't written up her brother's report favorably. From then on he'd been convinced that Murdock needed a more extensive treatment plan. Laura blatantly refused the techniques Decklan insisted would help him.

" _If it didn't work at the damn VA, it isn't going to work here._ _ **I**_ _am in charge of his treatment, and nothing you say is going to move me from my position,"_ she'd told him.

At least, not without supportive evidence that Laura's "familial bias" deterred her from giving him proper medical treatment. This was the only way she could be overruled, as declared by U.S. Marshals.

"It was a pleasure working with you, sir," she said with as much seriousness as she could muster, and offered a salute that was just a hint mocking before leaving the room. What she found was chaos in the corridor, but what nearly made her see red was a large man, black and sporting a wound on his arm, trying to choke the life out of her brother. Though the colonel was already breaking them apart, it wasn't fast enough for her.

"Baracus, _off. Now_ ," Smith ordered and pulled the man off Murdock. Another man was a relatively safe distance away in clothes that appeared too big for him. He was clearly angry as he asked, "Who's a doctor here? Where's a real doctor?" but she brushed past him to go to her brother.

"What the hell is going on?" she shouted, and checked Murdock for injuries, though her brows shot into her hairline when she realized he was wearing a pair of scrubs.

"Back off, this is a hospital," Smith said to the taller, bigger man he'd identified to Laura as "Baracus." Said man did back off, but was silently simmering as he glared at Murdock.

"What did you _do_?" she asked her brother, even as he gently pushed her hands away. He was still regaining his breath and didn't answer.

"I see everyone's met Mr. Murdock," said Smith.

" _Met_ him? He lit my _arm on fire_ ," said the other man, making Laura's eyes grow wide. Murdock laughed nervously as she groaned and pressed her hands to her face.

"He gave me a lightning bolt in mine, man," said Baracus. Laura grew curious and looked over at his arm. Sure enough, there was a lightning bolt of stitches closing a wound. Laura shook her head.

"Look at me, son," said Smith, earning Murdock's attention. "I'm told you're a hell of a chopper pilot."

"The best, sir," Murdock affirmed.

"I'm not getting on a chopper with this nut job," said Baracus, and pointed at said man for good measure.

"Yeah is—is he supposed to be another one of your projects?" the other interjected, making Laura look back at him with angry, narrowed eyes.

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"I'm a _real_ soldier," Murdock said, using sharp gestures to punctuate his remark. "I'm a _Ranger_ , baby!"

There was a brief moment of silence as the others took in that particular bit of information, and it gave Laura reason to believe the rest of them were as well.

"I'm worried," said the one in the blue shirt. His similarly colored eyes were wide and exasperated, and he annoyed Laura on sight. Though if their first impressions with her brother were correct, then she supposed she couldn't really blame him.

"I'm a Ranger, sir," Murdock asserted, and Smith nodded.

"That's good enough for me. You've been released into our care and reinstated, Captain," he said, ignoring his second in command's voice of, "I'm not even close to good with that." Murdock's eyes widened with incredulity and hope, until he glanced over at Laura.

"What about my sister, sir?"

"She's still in charge of your treatment, so she'll be transferred also," said the colonel.

"Thank you, sir," Murdock said, and saluted his commanding officer.

"Let's get the hell out of here," Smith said, and turned to go down the hall. Laura followed the rest of them, but was slightly shocked.

"Wait, right now? We're leaving right now?"

"Now _she's_ coming with us too? What is this supposed to be, a bus stop?" said Blue Eyes. She gave him a peeved look.

"Yes, Lieutenant," Smith replied, mostly in answer to Laura, but he supposed it could have been in answer to both. "We're on the run from a renegade, General Tuco. We're in need of a good pilot."

He led the way up the stairs, and they ran all the way up until reaching the roof, where a red and white medical helicopter sat prettily waiting.

"You gorgeous old rust-bucket, did you miss Daddy?" Murdock said in a mock-Australian accent and strode forward to meet the copter.

"What are we doing, Hannibal? You know I hate running!"

"Face, what have I told you about a well-oiled plan?"

"To be one step ahead of the enemy, not to be running away from him!" he said, raising hand back to the door.

"Who says we're running?" asked Hannibal. Laura's eyes widened as she noticed what her brother was doing.

"I swear to God, H.M., if you don't get down—"

"What, we're going to get in this dinosaur with this freak show?" Blue Eyes, or more accurately, "Face," said. He gestured to Murdock, who was currently swinging from one of the helicopter's blades.

" _You spin me right round, baby, right round. Like a record, baby_ …rudders are good, sir!"

Laura was too distracted by her brother's antics to hear what Face said, but she did hear his rather loud question of, "Who _is_ this guy?"

"Just get in the helicopter!" Hannibal ordered. "Murdock, get the engines running!"

Murdock jumped down and complied, getting inside and sitting in front of the controls. He found two headsets and put on of them on. Laura's stomach protested at the idea. She'd been in the air with her brother driving before, and if it was a chase they were heading into…things weren't going to be smooth.

Hannibal got into the passenger's side and accepted the headset Murdock offered, while Laura, B.A. and Face climbed in the back seat. It was a bit cramped with Laura in the middle, but she was grateful for the protection when men with artillery burst through the doors and scrambled onto the roof. It took no time for them to begin shooting at the aircraft.

"Murdock, get this thing in the air!" said Hannibal as he, Face, and B.A. began shooting back at their enemies. Laura huddled down lower at hearing the gunfire. As the copter began to lift, she heard Murdock say, "Hold on boys, I'm gunna try something I saw in a cartoon once!"

"Oh, no…" she groaned.

"What you talkin' bout cartoons for, get us the hell outta here!" B.A. yelled.

"We got a hot chopper 2-6!" Face called out, pointing behind them. Murdock steered the chopper to the right and swerved around.

"Uh oh, hold on!" he said as they met the air conditioner vent and shoved it over until it fell off the side of the building. It wasn't until they flew away from the hospital that they saw where the vent landed. B.A. screamed in horror over the sound of the propellers.

"YOU PANCAKED MY VAN! **I'M GUNNA KILL YOU, FOOL!** "

"You can't park there, that's a handicapped zone!"

"You're crazy, I knew you was crazy moment I saw you!"

"He's not crazy!" Laura glared up at B.A.

"If you don't know what kinda nut job he is, then you're half a basket case too!"

"This was a mistake," Face muttered and gripped after he shut the door on his side of the helicopter. They sped off above the desert, the large canyons and precipices becoming less distant.

The chopper behind them began firing. Murdock swerved to and fro to avoid the bullets while some grazed the shell. When a steady torrent of bullets went their way, he steered up and around until they made a loop up-side-down and returned to center balance. They all screamed, but none as much as Laura, who had to raise her hands above her head against the ceiling to keep from hitting her head.

"How the fuck did you forget to put on a seat belt?" Face shouted and reached up for her.

"Just get me down!"

"I've never done this before!" Murdock called out as the vehicle went about the turn.

Face grabbed Laura by the waist so she wouldn't land painfully or fall out into open air, and pulled her down onto his lap when the chopper righted. Her dark hair fell out of the tight bun it was in and obscured her vision, but not enough so that she wouldn't see the cheeky grin Face was giving her.

She narrowed green eyes down at him.

"Don't even think about—IIIIIIIT!" The copter lurched again to the right, and she griped onto him for dear life. " _Shiiiiiit!_ "

"Nothing like good ol' aerial combat, eh?" Murdock turned and asked Face, who let go of Laura with one hand only to point forward and say, "Don't look at me, look at there!"

It wasn't perfect grammar, but it was understandable, considering.

"He's only got heat seekers left," said Murdock as they approached an old, wooden bridge. They couldn't get through it without crashing.

"Get us out of here, Captain," Hannibal ordered, speaking for the first time since they took off. Murdock saw the man's tense expression out of the corner of his eye and couldn't help but admire the colonel's hold on his composure. Murdock himself was finally in his element, but he knew a barrel roll tended to make stomachs roll. He personally enjoyed that flip-flop feeling. It was like one of those carnival rides, but ten times better.

"Hold on, this could get ugly!" he replied and pulled up as hard as he could. "Here we go, baby, climb! Climb!" Face, B.A. and Laura screamed on the top of their lungs over the noise of the helicopter.

"Woo-hoo-hoo-hoo!" Murdock was at his happiest at the apex of a height achieved in the little helicopter, but as the heat seeking-missiles neared he reached for a top switch.

"Whoa, missiles!" He flipped it, making the copter shut completely off. "That's how we handle heat-seekers, chaps. We go cold!"

The British accent he took on wasn't exactly comforting when they began their backwards fall, inducing more screaming. By now Laura's fingernails were digging into Face's back and shoulders, but he hardly felt it with how they were falling to their deaths. The two screamed louder when they saw B.A. hanging out of the helicopter. A beeping noise was helpfully alerting them to the fact.

"Get him in here!" said Hannibal. Face switched places with Laura and let her buckle in as he went over to the other side of the chopper. He reached out and grabbed B.A.'s hand.

" _Oh shit!_ " he screamed as the wind nearly dragged them both out. " _Oh shit!_ "

But as Murdock quickly flipped a few switches to restart the engines and righted the machine again, Face was able to pull B.A. in and get him strapped into his seat. The man appeared to be going into shock, however, and his head hung against his chest.

"Close the door! I know you're air-born Rangers but that was ridiculous!" said Murdock, and Face could barely do more than close the door.

He placed his hands on B.A.'s shoulders and said, "You're going to be okay!"

B.A. nodded minutely, and Face sighed and sat in the middle, allowing Laura to keep his seat. He wanted to throw up. _Again_.

"Boss, the idea is to kill Tuco, not the other way around!" he called out to Hannibal.

"Being one step ahead isn't a plan, kid," he replied and glanced back at his second in command. "Two to three steps ahead. Beating an enemy's move before it's even made, _that's_ a plan."

He looked down at a tracking device he'd been given from Intel at the hospital, and saw the two choppers as they moved over the countryside. He adjusted his headset.

"Hatchet, hatchet, lock onto my LC," then as the radio patched in to Tuco's headset, he said, "General Tuco. You are currently engaged in unauthorized warfare on United States Military personnel."

" _No, no, no, no, you engaged me!_ " shouted the voice on the other line.

"Repeat, you are engaged in unauthorized warfare on United States Military personnel." Hannibal watched his tracker and waited until both helicopters were over the U.S. border. He smirked to himself before speaking into the intercom again.

"…Over United States Air Space."

"… _What?_ "

Faceman and Hannibal wore similar looks of triumph as the colonel replied,

"Alpha, Mike…"

" _Foxtrot!_ " the two finished.

"In otherwords," Face continued, " _Adiós, motherfuck—_ "

And Murdock flew their helicopter out of the way as the chopper behind them was blown sky-high, the explosion's flames just licking their tail. They laughed and flew on, and the colonel and the captain clasped hands. Face turned to both B.A. and Laura and shared a laugh with her as she pumped both fists in the air.

" _That was awesome!_ " Murdock yelled.

"That was _not_ awesome!" B.A. protested.

"Murdock, you're a genius!" said Face, and slapped a hand over his eyes in sheer disbelief that they had actually made it through that. Though he rolled his eyes when Laura said, "Told you."

"I'm never flyin' again, I'll tell you that right now," B.A. continued, to the near giddy amusement of everyone else.

The adrenaline was addictive, Laura reflected. She'd almost forgotten how much she missed it, despite how petrified she'd been only minutes ago.

"I never should have doubted you, boss," said Face, and Hannibal smirked, pulling out a cigar and a lighter from his pocket.

"There's a plan in everything, kid." He stuck the cigar in his mouth, and after lighting it,

"And I love it when a plan comes together."

* * *

 **And there's plenty more where that came from. I won't be continuing right into movie after this chapter, but feel free to let me know what you all thought! :)**

 **-E2189**


	2. Purple Rain

**AN: Thanks to those of you who favorited/followed this story! These next few chapters will be set in the eight years leading up to the Final Days of American Withdrawal from Iraq.**

* * *

 _ **Renegade**_

" _I know, I know, I know times are changing  
It's time we all reach out for something new  
That means you too.  
You say you want a_ _leader_  
But _you can't seem to make up your mind  
I think you better close it  
And let me guide you to the purple rain."_

— _The Artist Formerly Known As Prince_

Chapter II: Purple Rain

They stopped at an airport in Texas, where unfortunately for all except Murdock, they boarded another flight to Washington D.C. so the pilot could be officially reinstated. They were to report for duty in a couple weeks, and Murdock and Laura's things were to be shipped from Mexico during that time, including their respective uniforms.

While on the plane, Hannibal explained to Laura the transition that would be taking place, while Face tried in vain to doze in the window seat. The plane was three seats in a row, nearly empty, so it made talking with Hannibal both easier and more comfortable than looking back at him from the row in front. Murdock and B.A. were a couple rows ahead, though B.A. didn't allow the pilot to sit next to him (the only reason the gruff Ranger even allowed himself to be persuaded onto the flight was the promise Murdock wouldn't be driving, and Laura's promise on her brother's behalf that he would leave B.A. relatively in peace). They were on opposite sides of the plane, Murdock staring out the window while the other snoozed.

"Our first deployment is in Afghanistan, so you'll be commissioned to the Army Hospital stationed in the U.S. base there. You'll be working under Colonel Annie Harper as a psychiatric clinical staff nurse, mostly with soldiers diagnosed with PTSD and depression. No different from what you were doing before," said Hannibal. Laura nodded.

"The rest of us will be somewhere in the base. You can come by when you're off-duty, of course."

"Sounds good, Colonel," she said with a smile.

Already the woman seemed different to Hannibal than the quiet, suspicious nature she had when they met just a few hours ago. She'd been tense and reserved, weighed down by the walls of the psych ward. At the promise of a future, a small smile was able to lighten her features.

Face also noted the difference, that she seemed calmer. Though to be fair, when they met they hadn't exactly been level-headed.

"I can't thank you enough for what you've done, I…" she trailed and her gaze dropped.

Face caught the slightest tremble to her chin, the way she bit her lip slightly to keep a tight lid on the emotions threatening to spill. She looked over to where her brother sat watching the clouds pass by with a smile on his face. It put a soft smile on hers.

"For both of us. Thank you," she said. Hannibal inclined his head, a small, knowing smile curving his lips.

"It's my pleasure, Lieutenant."

Laura smiled once more and said, "I'm just going to go check on him."

"Feel free," said Hannibal.

"This time you've got all the seats in the world to choose from," Face said with a grin. She laughed a bit, and after she stood and glanced over at him, he winked, making her roll her eyes.

She then left the colonel and his XO to stare after her. Hannibal looked over at the younger man with a dry look that spoke volumes.

"What?"

"You know damn well what. Don't even think about it."

"I wasn't," Face denied. At the knowing look Hannibal gave him, he sighed. "I wouldn't, Hannibal."

No matter how new the formation of this Alpha team was, messing with a teammate's sister was lower than even his standards. She wasn't what he would usually go for, but he could admit she had the potential to be attractive. She looked petite, easy on the eyes, though she didn't seem to be inclined to wear too much makeup, or dress to kill in standard green scrubs. Thick brown hair, medium length. Prominent cheek bones and an attitude that promised she wouldn't be ignored if she felt pressured.

"See that you don't. I don't have time to go looking for another conman," Hannibal remarked. Faceman scoffed, but his morbid curiosity was piqued at the thought of what the seemingly easygoing (but clinically insane) pilot would do. Kill him in a fit of rage, possibly poison his food, "accidentally" make him fall out of the next helicopter ride they were sure to have…

He inwardly cringed at that.

When Face looked up, between the gaps in the seats he could see Murdock and Laura playing a game of Uno they'd gotten for the plane ride. Every once in a while Laura would press her lips in annoyance when she had to draw more than two cards to find a yellow. Murdock snickered at her expense, but pouted when she put down a Wild Draw Four, forcing him to draw four more cards from the pile.

"Goddamn it, I was almost at Uno."

"Keep drawin', I'm determined to win at least _one_ game," she replied, a bit of southern drawl entering her speech. Hers was less pronounced than Murdock's, but it made him wonder where they were from.

"Keep dreamin', Louanne." She made a noise of frustration.

"Stop _it_ , you know I hate that damn name."

"Aw, quit yer whinin' and take this beating like a man."

"I regularly beat the shit out of you at Checkers, don't you forget your place."

"Yeah, well, we're not playing Checks right now, are we? Keep your head in the game, woman!"

Face shook his head in amusement. Those were siblings all right. Quietly, he turned to his CO.

"How did they get to be in that psych ward, Hannibal? How did you even find them?"

Because he knew Hannibal must have looked up their files before they even set out to Mexico, otherwise how would he know to have the pilot's reinstatement and the nurse's transfer lined up and already approved?

"I heard a few things here and there about a great Air Force pilot gone off the deep end—some rumors about that not being completely true, and a family member trying to get him out of the VA mental institution. Naturally, I did a little digging."

Hannibal pulled a file from his bag and opened it.

"They're both decorated, both served in several countries in the Middle East and East Asia. Shortly after his time in Iraq and a series of incidents not specified, our Captain was tested and declared clinically insane," Hannibal read quietly. "After that he was in and out of medical leave for nearly five years before they filed for his indefinite commitment."

Face listened with rapt attention, though both glanced up every now and again to make sure the two in question were now dozing a few rows ahead.

"Lt. Laura Alice Murdock was serving in Iran at the time. When she was notified of her brother's condition she was flown back to D.C. for his hearing, in which he was commissioned to the VA for solitary confinement. She fought for seven months to get him out, unsuccessfully, until her lawyer convinced her to change her case from claiming he wasn't insane, to requesting permission to oversee his treatment herself."

"Why?" asked Face.

"She claimed the doctors weren't helping him. That they were using restrictive techniques, drug treatments, and therapies that weren't conducive to his healing process. He'd suffered from traumatic stress caused by his service in the Middle East. It took her another nine months to be granted permission to oversee his healthcare, and that Murdock would be transferred from the VA, on the condition that she would have an overseer."

Hannibal quickly skimmed the rest of the information before giving his second in command a summarized version.

"It ended up being that she requested a transfer to the Army Hospital in Sonora, and was given the position of assistant to the Head of the Psych. Ward, Dr. Richard Decklan," he finished. Face's brows raised in surprise as he regarded Hannibal.

"She _requested_ a transfer?"

"They allowed her to withdraw from the field in the Middle East to be in the Mexico base with her brother."

"With her track record, looks like she could have been close to becoming a captain," Face mused.

"Possibly," Hannibal nodded minutely. He flipped back to the first page of the file. "It lists their immediate family as deceased. Their father was a general, Holland M. Murdock. Air Force, died in Vietnam when both were considerably young."

"That explains things," Faceman nodded, then looked back over to the two sharing a blanket while Laura used her brother's shoulder as a pillow, cards forgotten. "They're all each other has."

Hannibal closed the file and tucked it back into his bag.

"Not anymore."

* * *

She inspected the walls and floors with a critical eye as her brother bounded around the wide, empty room. The front door needed a new hinge and the windows were sealed shut. The bathrooms needed to be disinfected with bleach and Scrubbing Bubbles cleaner, which Murdock affectionately called, "Scrubby Bubbly." They both agreed it was great in vanilla cake.

The wooden floors were aged, though still in moderate condition. Laura noted that the broken ceiling fan in what would be the living room needed to be replaced.

The apartment was on the first floor, so they wouldn't have to deal with stairs and elevators, but the place was easily decades old…though now that she thought about it, the arched open entryways gave the place character.

Looking past the desperate need for a clean, it was slowly starting to grow on her. They could paint over the dull beige color in the kitchen. Then she mentally conceded it was a stark contrast to the dark walls in the living room the realtor had informed her was called "wineberry," and the forest green in the master bedroom. The other, smaller one had a soft yellow she didn't dislike.

A rush of emotion hit her when she realized how lucky they were to even be here. In Los Angeles, California. Buying an apartment a mere block away from Face's and fifteen minutes from B.A. An apartment with French cupboards and purple walls.

She hadn't known what to expect when she accepted Hannibal's proposal. The niggling question in her mind, _should she trust him_ , was quickly swallowed up by the determination and sympathy—not pity—she saw in the cool blue of his eyes. The way he filled up the room and commanded respect without asking for it, and the way he looked at her and _saw_ her, the same way he _saw_ Murdock. Not as a psych patient and his babysitter, but two decorated military officers, people that deserved dignity and respect.

Part of her had hesitated while on the hospital roof. Laura knew it wouldn't be easy to reenter the world. It had already had a go at them once before and nearly won. Change was something she'd grown used to while on the field, but she'd spent a long time being stagnant, coasting through the Mexican ward without a plan save for how to keep Murdock from causing another riot in the arcade center. She was used to being independent, making her own decisions and ones she thought would benefit Murdock while the law prevented him from making his own, and the habit hadn't stopped when she met Hannibal Smith.

But she took a chance she didn't regret now in the slightest.

"Well, when the government is helping to pay your bills and furnish a 'moderately priced apartment,' beggars can't be choosers," said Laura with a grin. "What do you think?"

The apartment was small, but cozy, had two bedrooms, two bathrooms (one in the master bedroom and another in the hallway leading to them), a living room and a kitchen.

"It's like Prince made it rain in here!" he exclaimed, liking how his voice echoed. Laura smiled when she heard the beginning refrains of the chorus from the song he knew was her favorite by the artist. She looked over at him as he marveled at the colorful walls she knew had effectively caught his attention more than anything else. He didn't care much about dirt or doors that could use a new hinge. It wasn't barred, and it wasn't pristine white.

Their shared gaze seemed to agree.

"I'll make the call to the realtor and get the owner over here with the papers," she said, and laughed outright when he grabbed her around the waist and swung her around while still belting out soulful lyrics on the top of his lungs. She remarked that he would make the neighbors upset, but the fact they would have neighbors made them both excited enough not to care (and at that thought she ended up joining him in the last chorus anyway).

Their belongings were delivered the next day as they started hitting different stores, local flea markets and second-hand shops for deals on furniture, cookware, and other necessities to at least make the apartment _look_ like someone lived there. The transition was slow while things seemed to be happening all at once; from moving in the new couch set that Laura assured only needed some stuffing added to one of the cushions, to finding lamps with shades that Murdock was sure predated the 70s.

Nearly a week later, when the other three members of the newfound team came over for dinner, none commented on the colorful walls, or the brown, furry rug between the coffee table and the couch that didn't quite match (actually looked like it had been on a bear first, but Murdock had insisted it reminded him of Manny the mammoth from _Ice Age_ ).

B.A. had looked strangely at the round table they were using as a dining table (really it was patio furniture, but they'd gotten a good deal), dark wood with an oriental design of a dragon carved into the center. Murdock happily quoted half the lines from the original _Karate Kid_ while he cooked.

Hannibal had the grace to puff his cigar with a ghost of a smile and accepted Face's challenge of a game of cards. B.A. and Laura joined in after she brought over glasses of wine from the bottle Face brought over as a housewarming gift. For Murdock's sake, she would attempt be civil with Face. He had an insufferable personality and an affinity for teasing her. She suspected he just liked to make her riled up by pressing buttons he knew would agitate her. She could deal with B.A. as long as he didn't hurl any more derogatory names at Murdock.

"So, you like the new place?" Face asked casually, though she saw the knowing gleam in his eyes.

"Love it…thanks for pointing it out for us," Laura said, sipping her glass and placing down a queen. B.A. cursed under his breath and grabbed the small pile that had formed in the center. She snickered mentally and noted he must not have any face cards above a jack if he couldn't put down anything higher.

"You letting Murdock do all the decorating?" said Face, lowering his voice. The pilot had the ears of a hawk and eyes to match.

"I don't have the heart to say no when he sees something he likes," she said honestly, and glanced over when she heard muttered curses coming from the kitchen. Murdock appeared to be grabbing at the air, though she knew better when she saw something small and black swirling above his head.

"I think there might be a fly swatter under the sink," she called out to him. He looked over at her incredulously.

"That won't do, Louanne! I must have chopsticks to catch it, then I'll be _invincible!_ "

She raised a brow, but shook her head.

"We're fresh out I think," she said, holding back a laugh at Face's expression. She cursed when she saw Hannibal's play. It was a king, and she had no more aces.

"Come _on_ , I was nearly to one last card," she groaned and picked up the pile in the center. Now she had _fifteen_ cards.

"Why do he call you Louanne?" asked B.A. Laura sighed and shook her head as she glanced over at the sergeant.

"It's not important," she deflected.

"He calls you that _all_ the time, what's it mean?" asked Face.

"It's a long story."

"We got all night," Hannibal commented idly. She looked up at the thinly veiled mischief in his eyes with pursed lips.

 _Traitor._

"You really wanna know?"

Their identical expectant expressions made her sigh.

"Well…when I was really young I liked theater and all that stuff. In first grade I bragged to everyone that I was going to be a movie star or be on Broadway. I also had an obnoxious obsession for the show _Annie_ and wanted to be like Louanne Sirota," said Laura, flushing with embarrassment when Hannibal chuckled in understanding of the reference. It didn't hurt the actress was also from Texas. "She played Annie in the first and second National Company. H.M. thought it was a good play off of 'Laura Alice.'"

"Yup! Miss Los Angeles herself. Shoulda made it big, I always told her," said Murdock, who came around to the table with two plates of spaghetti and meatballs and set them down in front of Hannibal and B.A. Face looked over at her and grinned at her longsuffering expression.

"New nickname?" he teased.

"Ever since we moved here," she replied and warned, "Just wait, you'll be next."

The wine and meal finished, card games spent, it was nearly one in the morning with thunder rolling outside by the time they called it a night. Face peeled away from the driveway in his white corvette before the rain hit, B.A. in his van nearly invisible in the darkness, leaving Hannibal lingering on the front steps with Laura while Murdock began the inevitable cleanup inside.

"Thanks for coming tonight," she said. The colonel looked down at her and smiled slightly.

"It was entertaining," he remarked around a new cigar, his eyes moving pointedly to the captain now shoving all the garbage from the dining table into a large trash bag in one go, letting plastic cups and utensils he didn't get fall to the floor. "See you next week."

Their plane was to leave the country on Saturday morning.

"See you then. And again…thanks, Colonel," she said with a genuine smile. "For everything." He took the cigar from his mouth, exhaled smoke.

"Call me Hannibal," he said, his smile a little more pronounced. He traveled the rest of the way down the few steps and, before he headed to his car, "Have a good night, kid."

Laura gave a little wave and watched his car disappear around the corner of the parking lot. The colonel had an apartment there in LA, though she had no idea if he had an actual house somewhere, or even where his hometown was. She stood there for another minute as the rain began to fall, gently at first, then beating a steady rhythm as it made the asphalt parking lot glisten silver in the moonlight. Murdock came to stand next to her and smiled down at her. One look and she knew they were thinking the same thing.

 _Come on down, purple rain._


	3. The Real Deal

**AN: Hi guys. So I planned on writing a few more chapters for this story. That is, if you guys are interested. I don't think the A-Team fandom is dead yet, so let me know if you like where this is headed! ;)**

* * *

 _ **Renegade**_

Chapter III: The Real Deal

 _ **Six Months Later:  
A U.S. Army Base in Afghanistan  
1800 Hours**_

"Are you still sleeping irregularly?"

"Sometimes, not as much."

"You said hallucinations were becoming less frequent?"

"Well, the violent ones, yeah. Those are only every once in a while."

"But the voices are gone, right? You said those were gone when we took you off the amitriptyline."

"Am I trippin' teh what lines?"

That was accompanied by a Jamaican accent that was slightly odd on him, but perfectly accurate as always. She hid a grin behind her clipboard.

"Sorry—Elavil."

"Oh, yeah, those felt like goin' up-side-down on a tilt a' whirl down a busy tunnel."

"I think I remember you saying that. Wait, I think I _wrote_ that…no, _you_ wrote that. When did you get ahold of my clipboard?"

Laura gave her brother a reprimanding look, to which his reaction was appropriately sheepish.

"Not my fault I'm a little flighty after I take the little red ones."

She sighed and closed Murdock's file.

"I'll just sign off on your continued prescriptions, taking off a couple and adding Fluoxetine to the list since it seems to be making progress. Well, you're good to go then."

She looked down at her watch.

"And it's high time you clocked out for the night," he said. Her smile was wry.

"You think so?"

"Want me to treat you to dinner?" he asked, standing up from the couch. It was old and green with the fabric frayed, but his sister regularly disinfected it, so it was okay.

"Well-done cheeseburger with your secret sauce?" she asked hopefully, stepping through the doorway when he opened it for her. He grinned and put an arm around her shoulders affectionately as they made their way to the front desk.

"I knew you were my favorite. None of the others seem to appreciate my special marinade," he said.

"To be fair, last time Face couldn't move the lower half of his face for three hours."

"It's only partial paralysis."

"And B.A. had the shits for a week."

"The Not-So-Mr. Bubble does wonders for that."

"You mean Pepto."

"Same thing. Both are pink."

"And Hannibal swore he couldn't feel his left leg until morning."

"The anti-freeze causes a numbing sensation, nothing detrimental."

"Just saying," she said, slipping Murdock's file into a cabinet before clocking out. "Mags, I'm calling it a night."

The young nurse at the desk looked up and smiled.

"All right, go ahead. Harper won't mind if it's you."

"Nah, Annie knows I'm good for it." As it was she only took a half-hour lunch break, no extra time in between unless she absolutely needed it. General Harper knew there was only one reason Laura would ever leave early (or even on time, for that matter):

"Besides, my brother and his team just got back from number five," she said, gesturing to Murdock, who smiled at the nurse. Maggie was kind, always greeted him with genuine friendliness before she made the call to Laura that he was there to see her.

"How'd it go?" Maggie asked.

"Was in an out, a few close shaves but we finished the job," said Murdock. He absently scratched the back of his head.

"That's great!" she said, her brown eyes wide and expressive. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Yep, I'm glad to be back to base for a little while. Got to see you on my first day. Can't go wrong from here, can I?" he said, making the receptionist blush, though her smile was sweet.

"I guess you can't," she said. Laura smirked, while she was inwardly somewhat shocked. It had been a long time since she'd seen Murdock openly flirt with a woman (since grade school, probably), least of all her coworkers. But while she hated to break up such a lovely moment, her stomach was growling.

"All right, Maggie, I'll see you tomorrow," she said, hooking her arm through Murdock's and leading him outside. He looked back and waved sheepishly before Maggie's smiling face disappeared behind the tent flaps.

When they'd gotten a ways distance from the hospital, Murdock spoke up.

"Just so you know, when we get to the tents don't be surprised when you see Face. He got banged up a bit."

Laura looked at him, concern shown in her eyes. It had taken her a while to get used to the man. His answer-for-everything smartassery, and at times overly confident nature had constantly rubbed her the wrong way.

It bothered her how quickly he and her brother became friends, how easily Murdock would gravitate toward the younger man—he was probably closer to her own age of 28—often talking and watching action movies and playing video games with Face than spend as much time with her.

She'd been careful not to seem jealous. Laura understood that he needed friendship with other people besides her—especially that camaraderie with his team. But at the time she would have rather it have been with Hannibal than a man who treated his clothes with more respect than women. By no means had she been about to give Face the satisfaction of seeing her childish neediness, nor would she make her brother feel guilt in any way for finally opening up to someone else besides her, taking down self-constructed walls that had kept probing psychiatrists and scientists out.

 _She would not be weak, goddamn it._

Of course, that's what she told herself. But eventually everyone on the team came to realize it. Hannibal, after she may have let something slip on a shared night of insomnia over hot chocolate. B.A., because he was more perceptive than she gave him credit for even if he didn't say much, and Face and Murdock by the CO's subtle prodding and mastery of bringing people to the correct conclusion without saying the problem outright.

Laura was lonely, and she missed her brother.

"I thought you said it was in and out," she asked.

"It more or less was. Facey just overextended and got caught in his blind spot, is all. We were ambushed by hostiles on the road."

Murdock became more attentive at including her in card games and trivia games and video games, and asking her if she wanted her to watch a movie with him, Face, and B.A. She noticed Face rolled his eyes at her less, teased her less just to get a rise (but still teased good naturedly), sometimes even let her pick the movie as long as it had some action or comedy. While she enjoyed well-written romance, she wasn't really fond of rom-coms, so that was never a problem.

"Is he okay?" she asked after a moment.

"Yeah, he's fine. Just not so pretty."

She couldn't help but smirk at that.

"At least that means he'll be staying put for a while."

It wasn't until they'd come back after an altercation in the mess hall, him sporting a black eye and a swollen lip while Murdock ushered him into the closest comfortable chair that she began to see him as someone she could trust.

" _What the hell happened?" she asked, pressing a bag of ice gently over his eye. He hissed and winced at the pressure, but didn't bat her away even if she could see in his eyes that he was debating it. Hannibal looked as if he was trying to keep a calm front while he talked with a commanding officer outside, and B.A. could only shake his head, muttering something about a "damn fool that couldn't keep his fist where his mouth was."_

 _Murdock was more nervous than she had seen him in a long time, and she suspected he had something to do with it. But it was nervousness for Face being in pain rather than for himself._

 _When at first Face tried to deflect as pass it off as nothing, she pressed him for a more specific answer. He wouldn't have given himself a black eye for nothing, nor did the bruising on his lower lip look like something he could have made just walking into a door on the way to the mess hall._

 _Finally, the conman sighed and glanced over at Murdock, who was on the far side of the tent looking for pain relievers and a glass of water. Laura read regret and anger in his expression, but she didn't think the latter was directed toward Faceman. When he looked back up at her, she was surprised by the anger she saw there._

" _Some douche bag was giving Murdock shit."_

" _What do you mean?" she asked, immediately on edge at the thought._

" _Don't worry about it, Laura. We handled it."_

" _No," she pressed. "Tell me."_

 _Seeing that she wouldn't relent, Face sighed and lowered his voice, prompting Laura to lean closer._

" _It was like some high school shit, teasing him because he remembered seeing his story about him being discharged…and having an episode in some hospital in Iraq."_

" _What'd he say?"_

" _Something stupid about him not belonging outside…around normal people. I said a few things he didn't take with a smile on his face."_

 _The corner of Laura's mouth twitched upward despite herself, making him grin a bit. She knew the story he was talking about, but until he asked, she wouldn't elaborate. He didn't. Instead he frowned as his brows knit in agitation._

" _Bastard eventually threw the first punch. I threw the second, but the third was…well," he gestured to his eye dismissively. "That was the last he got in before Murdock came at him."_

 _When her eyes widened, he gave her a cheeky grin but placated her with her next words._

" _He kicked the guy right into a trash bin."_

 _She shook her head but couldn't help but let out a relieved chuckle._

" _He was a captain too, so it was more or less on level playing field. Besides the fact that the guy had half a foot advantage and still got his ass handed to him."_

 _Laura actually laughed this time, making Face laugh with her despite his cracked lip._

" _Hannibal and another officer pulled us apart," said Murdock, coming back to their side of the tent to give Face two aspirins and a glass of water._

" _Thanks, buddy. Don't feel bad about it, that asshole deserved it," Face assured him._

" _Oh, I know it. I swear, the Army is lettin' just anyone sign up nowadays, doesn't matter if they don't got any brains. Everyone knows you shouldn't mess with the clinically insane," Murdock said sagely. "We're just too damn unpredictable."_

 _His grin was infectious and Face returned it, the two sharing a laugh afterwards. Laura shook her head, but smiled softly. Despite her better judgment, she looked up at the other lieutenant with a slightly altered light._

 _He was still smooth-talking and too arrogant for his own good, but his blue eyes were laughing and fond while he playfully punched Murdock in the shoulder, and was comically pained (though he pretended he wasn't) when Murdock returned the favor._

For a while, they walked through the base in silence, but Murdock became suspicious when he glanced over at his sister and saw her mischievous look.

"All right, what is it?" he asked, not bothering to stop in their pace.

"Nothing," she said, sounding like anything but.

"Don't make me tickle you in front of all these manly officers in uniform. Your squealing like a pig would scare 'em all off, and my task as big brother would be complete in chasin' all possible suitors away."

"…You're obnoxious."

"And you're stalling."

She glanced up at him in amusement.

"I'm just enjoying the fact that my brother's got a crush."

He gave her an annoyed look.

"Come on now, I enjoy Maggie's pleasant nature," he said. "It's a breath of fresh air compared to you—"

She effectively silenced Murdock by elbowing him in the ribs, ignoring his pained cry.

"You blushed like a sixteen-year-old girl," she accused. He rubbed his offended ribs while giving her the evil eye.

"Maggie's a pretty lady," he defended himself. They rounded the corner and saw his team's tent. B.A. sat in the front tinkering with some scrap metal and car parts.

"Well, then why don't you ask her out?"

"Where to, the Ritz right around the corner? We're in an army base, Louanne."

"Well, we should be pulling out of here soon. She lives in California too, that would make things easier!"

"B.A., I have returned, and brought a young maiden from across the shores," Murdock greeted in a British accent, pointedly ignoring her.

"What nonsense you talkin' now, fool?"

"Hey, Bosco," Laura said with a small laugh. He looked up from what he was doing and gave a half-smile.

"Your crazy-ass brother's been drivin' me up the wall the whole damn mission. I swear I can't catch a break."

She raised a brow in amusement while Murdock whistled to himself on the way to his grill. He put on his "Kiss the Cook" apron and started preparing dinner.

"I can slip him some sedatives if you want," she offered. Both knew she was only teasing, but there was a look in B.A.'s eyes that told her he wished she would. Over the past few months, B.A. had become a friend, despite their differences. For all his bravado, he was genuine and a refreshing contrast to Murdock's comical, albeit somewhat childish behavior. He and Face would say she could use some lightening up.

Though B.A.'s short fuse with Murdock similarly allotted Laura a short fuse with him, which usually ended in either pain for him (via slaps from hell), or arguments that could be funny at times, while at others exasperating, depending on their moods.

It took even longer for Laura to get used to his abrasive attitude than Face, mostly because of how he constantly labeled Murdock as "crazy." He was always respectful to her, to a point at least. When her temper spiked his did too, and it made for rocky beginnings between them. Eventually they would call a truce, with oatmeal chocolate chip cookies baked from scratch as a proverbial olive branch.

Murdock may have his culinary genius of curry tapenade, but she had mastered the art of baking by sheer trial and error. He always rolled his eyes when she claimed to still have the bruises from their grandma's wooden spoon.

"Sure, do us both a favor," B.A. said. Laura grinned and went inside the tent, and all at once her amusement was gone.

"Come on, boss, I'm already going stir crazy," said Face. He lay on the couch with his head propped up. Hannibal was sitting at the edge of it and gave him a peeved look.

"You nearly got shot in the damn face. Humor me, will ya?"

"Are you okay?" Laura asked, standing beside Hannibal. Face grinned up at her, and she had to grimace at the wide patch of gauze taped over the side of his namesake, his black left eye, cut on his upper lip. He was lying shirtless and his chest and ankle were wrapped.

"You look like shit."

"Thanks," he said wryly. "I'm fine."

Hannibal let out an audible exhale that could have been a sigh.

"Is he not taking his antibiotics?" Laura asked.

At the tired look he gave his XO, Laura gave Face a narrowed, reproachful look. She was used to playing "nurse" for them when they came back injured in the field. Even if that wasn't necessarily her area of specialized practice, she had been trained in both while getting her general nursing degree and by the military, and they knew how ruthless she was when it came to taking their meds. It was the only way of a speedy recovery, fast enough to keep up with the missions they were getting in increasing succession.

"They make me drowsy," he said in his defense. He didn't enjoy the feeling of being submerged in Jello with cotton in his ears, dead to the world in half an hour.

"You could use some sleep," she pointed out, and crossed her arms as she looked down at him. And so could Hannibal, though she knew he wouldn't tonight unless every member of his team was situated.

"Aw, don't look at me like that," he groaned and rolled his eyes. She raised a brow and casually gripped his ankle.

"Is this broken or sprained?" she asked.

When Smith replied, "Fractured," she nodded and smiled lightly, as if he'd just commented on the sunny weather.

Face winced in pain and looked up at her with wide (slightly fearful) eyes, but didn't make a sound. Any sympathy he was hoping from Hannibal was a lost cause the moment the colonel got up to look for a bottle of water.

"Don't make her do it," Hannibal warned him over his shoulder.

"You can't _bully_ me—OW-OW-OW! _Shit!_ "

Laura heard Smith sigh, which made her mouth twitch upward.

" _This is malpractice!_ " Face shouted as she applied more pressure. "MURDOCK!"

"What? What? Oh, come on now, Laura, that ain't nice."

"What's goin' on in here?" asked B.A., coming in after Murdock. He grimaced at the scene. "Aw, that ain't right."

"He doesn't think he's in pain. I just thought I would remind him since he refuses to take his meds," she explained.

"All right! All right, _shit!_ Give 'em to me! Jesus Christ."

She immediately let go of him and smiled sweetly, soothing over the offended joint with a practiced hand. Hannibal shook his head and gave Face the pills and a bottle of water while he handed Laura a bag of ice. Face downed them quickly, then gave the bottle back while scowling.

"I hope your license gets revoked."

"As long as you take your medicine like a good boy."

Her voice was saccharine, though her eyes shined with mischief.

"Thanks, Mom," he mocked. She smiled again and set the ice on his ankle.

"I could have been mean and tickled your foot with a feather."

"Where would you have gotten the feather?" he asked sarcastically.

"H.M. has a collection in his suitcase for safe keeping. Lucky charms for flying and all that."

Before Face could get over his confusion on that point, Murdock interrupted when he remembered the meal slowly going cold.

"Ho-ho, well now that that's over, who wants a cheeseburger?" asked Murdock. Laura looked back at him with hopeful eyes.

"With secret sauce?"

"Damn right, with secret sauce!"

* * *

"Oh, God…" Face muttered, trying to stretch out on his lawn chair. "I'm gonna die."

"You'll be fine," Laura dismissed.

"My stomach feels like lava inside…and I can't feel my toes."

"That'll go away in a couple hours."

"Tell me something, why are _you_ not fucked up? You don't even look queasy."

"…I don't know," she said, pausing thoughtfully with her beer in hand. "Secret Sauce doesn't do anything to me, just gives the flavor a kick."

"That's what your brother says. Figures," he said, then groaned at the way his stomach turned.

"When we were growing up, he would try and make me laugh by eating the dog's food, straight out of his bowl," she said with a giggle at the memory and sipped at her beer. "The nasty wet kind!"

She laughed again to herself. He wanted to gag.

"…That's mildly disgusting."

"It was damn hilarious," she said with a wistful smile. "Gran would start screaming to wash out his mouth with soap. Gramps couldn't be bothered."

Face glanced over at her.

"Your grandparents lived with you?" he asked. She nodded, her smile dimming a bit.

"They pretty much raised us with our dad being gone all the time…more after he died."

Face was a bit surprised at her being comfortable with telling him that; the two of them never spoke of their past, let alone the specifics of how they'd grown up. He understood why.

Face did tell them that he'd grown up in an orphanage run by a Catholic church, but not much beyond it. He read in their file that their mother had died when Murdock was five (Laura newly born), but it wasn't specified whether she'd died in childbirth, or by something else.

"I guess that answers the question of whether he was always this way," said Face with an amused grin.

Laura returned it, taking another sip as she watched her brother from the other side of the clearing. On a rare moment of patience on B.A.'s part, Murdock was playing Uno with him and Hannibal. The other two were taking the pilot's never-ending monologue of "what would happen if the Coyote ever caught the Road Runner" in stride. Ever since the plane ride six months ago, that deck of cards had been used regularly on their off-time.

Laura's grin gradually faded.

Face glanced over and noticed the change.

"You okay?"

It took her a moment to answer, but when she did, it surprised him even more.

"Those bastards at the VA almost ruined him. Never gave him a chance before they rubber stamped the 'insanity' bill on him, only let me see him once a month while I was trying to get him out. I thought Mexico would be the rest of our lives," she admitted.

She was inwardly shocked at herself, for what giving away to Face. But maybe it wasn't giving it away.

Maybe it was the beer.

"Every day being the same as the last. A deep part inside always waiting for something to happen..."

Laura looked at him then, with a weight in her gaze that he didn't really know what to do with.

"I never thought we would get here…where he could be flying again, around good people who make him better," she said quietly. "This is the real deal."

Face smiled and grabbed a beer from a nearby cooler, tipping it toward her once he popped the cap off.

"Got that right."


	4. Mid-Summer Nights

**AN: Thanks to all who favorited/followed, and especially to Crystal-Wolf-Guardian-967 for reviewing. I'd love to hear some feedback from the rest of you—your likes, dislikes, requests, etc.**

* * *

 _ **Renegade**_

Chapter 4 – Mid-Summer Nights

 _ **4 Years Later  
Mexico  
1900 Hours**_

"Ah, the heat, the swine, the dust…the smell. Take it in, B.A.!"

"We ain't here to sightsee, fool—get your ass back here!"

The larger man pulled the lieutenant by the collar of his shirt back into the cover of an alley as to not be seen when a car drove by. When they no longer heard the rickety engine, they crept back slowly to the edge of the parking lot. Face made an indignant noise once he was out of B.A.'s grasp and straightened his clothing. This was a handmade Italian suit, and a pain in the ass to iron. Why he was wearing it in the dead of night in the middle of an empty parking lot was harder to explain.

He'd had to pose as a wealthy entrepreneur interested in doing business with a shipping company that specialized in smuggling marijuana over the border to the United States. B.A. had been waiting in the Benz Face had "acquired," complete with tinted windows, and drove them both out to where Hannibal had given them instructions to wait for him while he tied up some loose ends.

"Murdock would appreciate my attempt at livening up the place," Face remarked with a sigh.

"Damn fool would get himself in all kinds a shit if he were here," B.A. corrected. Face grinned to himself as he kept a look out for their CO, who was supposed to be meeting them…

He looked down at his watch.

"Boss Man's late," B.A. said, scouring their surroundings with suspicious eyes.

"Fashionably," Face admitted, then wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He viewed the open road beyond the lot, ready to act if there was even a glimpse of an oncoming car. "Murdock hates coming back here."

"Can't blame him," B.A. said gruffly, his gaze still surveying the area. The lights were on in the tall building they stood a short distance from, yet there were no other cars besides their van in the parking lot.

"Can't say I enjoy it either," Face murmured.

Not to mention they were to count on support from the Defense Criminal Investigative Service, or as Murdock and Face affectionately called them, DICKS. Even though B.A. calmly pointed out—"The 'C' would hafta come after the 'I' for that to be goddamn clever!"—their renaming wasn't quite as apt as they would have hoped.

" _Not to mention there isn't a 'K,'" Laura added unhelpfully from where she was playing cards with B.A. Murdock gave her a peeved look._

" _What do you have against the DCIS?" asked Hannibal. He was multitasking, reading an article online with a cigar in his mouth and occasionally looking up at the boys._

" _They're so smug! Think they're so smarticle," Murdock said, earning an amused look from his sister._

" _Not all of them," Face allowed. "But some of them were real jerks to us last time we had to work together."_

A few of the DCIS, in their structured formations and uniforms and people who thought more like computers than people viewed the somewhat unorthodox, rag-tag Alpha team as something reckless, more bronze than brain. They gave snide looks and dropped derogatory comments as they walked past their tent, but the clincher for Face was when one of them kicked a dirty bucket of water over Murdock's shoes while he was washing out clothes.

Having to work with them were orders that came from General Russell Morrison, the commanding officer they'd been commissioned under after leaving Afghanistan nearly two years before. Incidentally, he happened to be one of Hannibal's oldest friends from their days in Vietnam, and a simple pattern was quickly adopted as pertained to missions. Whatever could be done more effectively (and with less bloodshed) by a smaller, special taskforce, Morrison sent the A-Team in alone.

Thirty-five successful missions was evidence enough of how well this structure was working out. However, this particular drug bust required some extensive investigation that the DCIS was willing to give, as situations like this actually _were_ their job to look into. Intelligence discovered a drug ring centered around one of Mexico's largest shipping companies, Trigo, which was dabbling in the export of marijuana into the States under the guise of produce crates.

The plants were being grown amongst wheat fields. This was the part of the operation Hannibal and Murdock had spent the past two days looking into. When a familiar looking black Jeep began pulling into the parking lot, Face tapped B.A. on the arm to catch his attention. The bigger man nodded and waited until Hannibal pulled to a stop in front of them.

Murdock climbed out of the passenger side, and the two men looked at him with wide eyes.

"What the fuck happened?" Face hissed, immediately going to the pilot's side. His clothes were blackened and frayed at the hems. Soot covered the man's arms, pants, and neck, dusted his cheeks, and was solidified in his hair that stood up at odd angles. But there was a large grin on his face as he waved Face off.

"I warned Hannibal to set the damn thing on three at most, but _noooo_ ¸ had to put it all the way up on ten." Murdock glanced over at the colonel with a sardonic expression, though his eyes were dancing. "I told him that's no way to make toast, but he kept insistin'."

Face smirked, but looked to their CO for more specific information. The older man sighed and stuffed the keys in his pocket before addressing his crew. He was similarly covered in soot, but was otherwise unharmed (he was told singed eyebrows and arm hair didn't take too long to grow back).

"They had explosives. We made good use of them," was Smith's only reply. B.A. shook his head with a muttered, " _dayum_ ," while Face's eyes widened.

"You _burnt down_ the warehouse?" he asked incredulously. "And didn't _invite_ me? What the hell, Hannibal!"

"And all the drugs in the backyard," Murdock added. "Burnt to a crisp and toasted to perfection."

"Calm down, kid, you'll get your chance," Smith said and nodded toward the building. Face contented himself with the thought of the M-16 stashed behind him in his belt, covered by his expensive jacket.

"The appointment is for 11:00 PM," reminded B.A. Face looked at his watch again.

"Yeah, you're right. Let's go in. It's 10:50."

Face went in first, holding onto his persona as Mr. Thomas Wellsworth, with B.A., or Jace, as his bodyguard. They met their mark, a Mr. Davíd Martí, more crooked than a spiral staircase and one of the wealthiest men in Mexico. His good fortune was largely due to his night job of exporting contraband and drugs, along with his merry men in the lobby of the building.

"Ah, right on time, Mr. Wellsworth. Right this way," he said smoothly through his accent. Even his smile seemed like it belonged on a mannequin than an actual living, breathing person.

" _Ready to engage once you get into the room, Face. Just make sure it's all in there_." Hannibal's voice came in through Faceman's small, expertly hidden earpiece.

"This is an extensive operation you have going here," Face commented as they were led down a set of stairs (for which the door was secured with an electronic passcode and fingerprint ID) into an enormous basement that described precisely what they predicted was the base of their procedure. Just as they thought, there were two points of entry at opposite walls.

"Is this everything?" he asked.

"We spared no expense. It's all here," Martí said absently, and gestured to the several crates being packaged on a conveyor belt system. Face glanced over some of them and saw that the marijuana was being packaged in them. "Feel free to take a look at your investment."

"I believe that won't be necessary," said Face. He even smiled as the doors were thrown open, and he ran to duck behind some crates with B.A. before gunfire opened from both sides of the room. DCIS agents flooded both entrances, and it wasn't long before the group of about fifteen men, plus Martí, were apprehended.

As they were being placed into custody, Face stood with his team, covered in grim and sweat but grinning, until he saw the female officer shepherding them to the van in cuffs. Her brown hair swung from her ponytail as she barked out orders with a confidence and hard tone that caught his attention. He didn't realize he was staring until she turned around and caught his gaze with clear, grey eyes. His mouth curved into a slow, flirtatious smirk, eliciting a delicate raise of her brow. The look she gave him was partially amused, partially defiant, but the interest in her eyes spoke leaps and bounds. Then her commanding officer called her over and the spell was broken.

 _Nice to meet you, Lieutenant Sosa._

Face didn't see her again until the next morning, scouring the warehouse for anymore salvageable incriminating evidence. It was an accident, but he was bringing back a water bottle to B.A. when she bumped into his shoulder and became a little off-balance. He grabbed her arm gently to right her while apologizing, and upon recognizing her, a grin returned to his face.

"Well, hello."

"Oh, it's you," she said, fighting a small grin of her own. Her lips were round and full, something he appreciated. "Our pseudo-entrepreneur."

"Ah, so you've heard of me." His tone was confident, but she was as well.

"Nothing positive." His grin kicked up into a smirk.

"Oh really? Couldn't have been by your captain, I hooked him up with a new Ipod a couple days ago. 64 GBs."

"I'm observant enough to figure out Faceman Peck without their help," she said smoothly.

 _Ah, so she_ _ **has**_ _heard of me. This could be either very good, or very bad for my chances._

Her eyes spoke for herself.

"I'd be willing to give you some help with that," he said, not realizing until he spoke that their bodies had drawn so close they were nearly touching. It was her turn to smirk.

"I bet you would."

Things went downhill from there.

* * *

Laura remembered well the first time she met that woman.

They had been given leave after their prolonged deployment in Mexico, just in time for Thanksgiving week. They arrived that Monday, and while they waited for their luggage Murdock offered to have the team over for dinner the next day. Laura didn't know why he was so enthusiastic about it, but there had been something in the way he and Face tried and failed to be discreet in their repetitive glances. Murdock's lopsided grin and Face's uncharacteristically reserved smile tipped her off, especially when Face asked if he could bring a guest.

"Of course, buddy. There'll be plenty of food to go around!"

Face then looked over imploringly at Laura. It was technically her house, considering it was in her name and she would most likely be helping with the cooking. She shrugged and smiled tiredly. It had been a long few weeks, but she would be happy when she could wash it all off with a warm shower and a night in her own bed.

"Who's the friend?"

Face and Murdock's eyes met again conspiringly before he winked at her.

"My girlfriend."

Laura's face must have shown her shock, because he laughed a little and teasingly ruffled her hair, despite her protests.

"Last I checked, you've never _had_ one of those," she deadpanned, propping one hand at her waist. "At least, not in the traditional sense."

B.A. chuckled wryly at that as he heaved two suite cases from the conveyor belt, making Face slide him a slightly peeved glance before turning back to her.

"Yeah well, prepare to be amazed," he said dryly. "She's DCIS, lieutenant."

Laura's brows shot up at that.

"Impressive. What's her name?"

"Sosa. Charissa Sosa."

And that's how Laura found herself serving beer to Face's new girlfriend of three-and-a-half weeks—something nearly award-worthy for the conman—and trying to make it seem like she _wasn't_ analyzing every slightest change in body language and every word that came out of Sosa's mouth.

The guys were content, playing cards and laughing and eating chips while waiting for Laura and Murdock to finish cooking dinner. Sosa claimed she didn't know the game, was happy to watch while sitting close beside Face.

It was obvious that Sosa, above all things, was independent, disciplined and cordial. Laura didn't fault her for looking strangely at the apartment's décor, especially the dragon on the dining table and the large, glaringly multicolored lava lamp in the living room.

She could see why Face was interested; her personality screamed confidence and tenacity, qualities that he would take as a challenge, and she was beautiful. With light eyes and full lips and long dark hair, Laura could admit, if only in her mind, that she was a bit envious. Sosa was relatively tall for a woman and able to match Face's height proportionately, while Laura was just shy of average height at five feet and five inches. All four men in the team dwarfed her, which was one of Murdock and Face's favorite lines of teasing.

Laura came into the dining room and picked up the empty bottles from the table.

"Come on, Face. Take your turn 'fore I do it for you," B.A. snapped. Face only grinned.

"Ah, you're just sour cuz I'm whipping your ass."

"You're not going to let him win again, are you, Hannibal?" Laura teased, setting down the bottles. His eyes wryly glanced up from his cards.

"I don't know how he does it," he admitted, cigar perched between his lips. Then he mumbled, "I've been playing this game twenty goddamn years…"

Face set down a card and she glanced at the hand he'd been dealt to the messily rolled sleeves of his untucked shirt, then at how peculiarly neat his collar was buttoned up and settled closely to his neck and shoulders. Laura pursed her lips and pulled back his collar.

"Hey, what the hell—"

She reached in with two fingers despite his loud protests at her cold, beer bottle holding hands, and pulled out two cards hidden in his undershirt.

"You little shit!" shouted B.A. He pointed furiously at the conman from across the table.

"I fucking knew it," said Hannibal, throwing a hand up in the air. Laura grinned at Face knowingly and again picked up her load of recyclables, thoroughly enjoying the way he was glaring at her openly. If Sosa minded that another woman just reached into her boyfriend's collar, she didn't say anything.

"I hate you," Face called after her. Laura stuck out her tongue at him over her shoulder, and she noticed the amused look on Sosa's face. Face glanced at his girlfriend with a dry look as the other two continued their ranting.

"I'm a little surprised I didn't notice."

Her brows raised and he smirked at her.

"They never do either."

Murdock took that moment to pop his head out from the kitchen.

"What happened? I heard a bunch of hollerin.'"

"Face is a cheatin' bastard," B.A. groused. Face shrugged with a helpless grin.

"I got caught."

"By who?"

Devilish cackling could be heard from somewhere in the kitchen. Murdock turned at the sound with a surprised look that soon turned into incredulous laughter.

Until crashing sounds turned heads from the game to where Murdock's head disappeared.

" _Oh, Louanne, what'd you do this time?_ "

" _Ow…_ "

"Make sure she doesn't bleed on the food!" Face called out, grunting in pain when Hannibal slapped him upside the head.

Even after a few more crashing noises and distant bickering, they could hear when Murdock called back.

" _It's spaghetti. Even if she did you wouldn't know_."

And that was before dinner.

Laura didn't feel she really met the real Charissa Sosa until after the meal was served, and even then, it was only through subtle observations. Overall, she guessed the woman was doing the best she could under the circumstances with Murdock and B.A. being what they were together: loud and obnoxious, with Face only adding fuel to the fire. Hannibal had the patience of a tolerating parent.

And the way Face and Murdock threw bread rolls at one another always managed to amuse Laura, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise (and she'd be lying if she were to deny flicking croutons into the fray).

But she could see Sosa was out of her element, awkward in front of relative strangers. She barely spoke two words in the conversation, just quietly ate, leaving half of her plate of pasta untouched. Whenever Face laughed at whatever was said, he'd occasionally turn to his girlfriend as if to share the fun, but she only ever gave him a small smile at best.

It made Laura wonder how private Face had kept his relationship from his team if Sosa still wasn't comfortable around them. But it also made her wonder what Sosa's problem was that she couldn't just drink a beer and relax.

She was strange, that woman.

* * *

The first time Laura felt comfortable enough calling Sosa by her first name, she was drunk.

Like, _really_ drunk.

Like slaphappy, just short of dancing "Thriller" on the dragon table drunk, if they had been in her apartment. Instead they were at Face's, taking shots of vodka while Face, Murdock and B.A. were trying and failing to play a car racing game on Face's Xbox while clearly pissed.

Vodka always hit Laura one of two ways: giggly or horny. Today it was giggly—at anything and everything.

"You mean 'ta tell me you've never—"

"Shhh," Laura slurred and held up placating a hand. "Fine, ya got me…it was 'n college. My roommate thought it'd be a good idea so we went out the back…started trippin' balls on mushrooms, thought her arm was a snake and the crack in the sidewalk was the edge of a cliff."

The other woman snorted indelicately—a testament to how far gone they were.

"'S how I met my boyfriend, actu'lly."

"You have one?" Sosa asked.

Laura held up one finger.

"'Scuse me, _ex_ -boyfriend."

"What'd he do?"

"Eh, what they always do…'s not important."

"I hear you."

"Th' point is…"

Laura stopped to blink past the sudden fuzziness in her brain.

"Th' point is," she started again, "you do stupid things for stupid people, and in the end they don't care. That's why it doesn't matter."

"You mean friends or boyfriends?"

"Same thing!" Laura waved a dismissive hand and took another large gulp of a rum and coke. "Unless you love 'em, all the stupid is just that. Stupid shit."

"Why does that matter?" Sosa asked with difficulty after tipping back a fifth of whiskey. It scorched down her throat, but she couldn't say she felt it as much as she would have if she hadn't had four shots of vodka first.

"Why does what matter?" Laura blinked again, this time in confusion before her eyes lit up in realization. "If you love 'em? Well…that's _obvious_."

"How?"

"If you do…well, then being an idiot every once in a while…that's worth it."

Sosa stared down at the empty glass in her hand, and Laura stared at her without meaning to. She wasn't too drunk to see the uncertainty clouding the other woman's eyes.

"Charissa…" Laura trailed, a question on the tip of her tongue. The lighthearted atmosphere that had surrounded them for the past two hours was gone now. She knew she probably shouldn't ask, had no business asking, but she wasn't in a position to be thinking about the consequences of her actions.

"You ev'r been in love?" she asked.

One lieutenant met the gaze of another.

"Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious."

And because she knew Face was going to ask Sosa to move in with him, to make eight months of random hook ups with the slapped on label of "dating" mean something. Laura had never seen the man serious. About _one_ woman. Ever.

"Sure," Sosa said with a slight scoff. Laura couldn't contradict her.

 _Face cares about you,_ she wanted to say, almost said, but didn't. It wasn't her place.

It wasn't her _business_.

Yet she couldn't help it, because Face was her brother's best friend. Hell, Face was _her_ friend.

"Sorry," Laura said quietly. "Sorry, it's none o' my…f'rget it."

After a moment of uneasy silence, Sosa sighed, and set down her glass on the table in front of them.

"I don't know," she answered. "It's never been my kind of thing."

Laura couldn't tell if that was an honest confession, but if the look in Charissa Sosa's eyes was anything to go by, she'd say it was as close to sincere as it could've been.

A week later, two nights before the Team was to be deployed to Brazil, Laura was once again in Face's apartment, this time with a beer in her hand that she was too surprised to drink.

Face and Sosa had broken up that afternoon.

Hannibal, B.A., Murdock and Laura had come as soon as he called, booze and burgers in hand.

Now, at four in the morning, with Murdock passed out at Face's feet and B.A. and Hannibal still drinking (Hannibal also smoking) and playing cards at the dining table, Laura stared down at a very pitiful looking Face.

"You really want my opinion?" she asked dubiously. Face sighed and ran a hand over his face. A sloppy gesture that had his arm hanging off the side of the armrest awkwardly. His hair was wild and plastered to his sweaty forehead, his loose shirt wrinkled and half-unbuttoned while his shoes (and his left sock) were nowhere to be found. That he was obviously miserable went without saying.

 _And more than a little drunk_ , she thought, and restrained a sigh. Laura relented and sat down on the foot rest in front of where he sat on the couch.

"A woman's opinion, I guess," he said, gesturing to her form widely, "On what I coulda done…"

It was probably the alcohol affecting him so strongly, but it made him look even more vulnerable. He desperately wanted the answers he thought she could give, and that made her cautious, even though she really did want to help him.

Though Laura might not have been the best point of reference, with only a couple serious boyfriends to speak of that never lasted long under the scrutiny of an Air Force, military-trained, decorated (and a long-standing reputation for being batshit crazy) soldier for a brother.

But the last one made it a year before he called it quits to pursue an art degree across the country, leaving her to pick up the pieces and try to force some structure into her life.

She joined the Army Nurse Corps after getting her own degree.

"I…never thought it would be like this," he admitted quietly, and there was something agonizing in it made Laura's heart break a little for him. All his life he'd skirted the consequences of fleeting romances, never getting in too deep, retreating before they got too "clingy" or began having expectations of something more than sporadic one-night visits every few months.

For once Laura had seen him take more responsibility, carry himself differently and, what had surprised them all the most, become committed to something more than the Team. The realization made her watch him with both wonder and no small amount of sadness. He had been ready.

Maybe not for the house and the lawn and the 2.5 children, but something along the way of that.

And it had all been thrown back in his face. It surprised Laura to no end that he was actually talking to _her_ about it.

He was notorious for closing the world off to his emotions, and he rarely shared his pains with her alone, if ever. She thought he would be more readily willing to talk about this with Hannibal than with her. Or to her brother, who knew Face so much better than she did. They had a bond Laura would never easily understand.

She couldn't help but feel like a substitute.

"Face, it wasn't about you…she…she all but told you she wasn't ready for something with a future…that wasn't your fault," she said.

"I know. I _know_ , but…I just…" He slumped forward, leaning his elbows onto his knees as his hands grasped his head that was surely spinning with everything he was trying to process through an alcohol-induced haze. He then exhaled loudly and let his hands drop between his legs.

This was the most lost she'd ever seen him, confused and exposed in his state, and it made her wish…suddenly she found herself wishing he'd never met Charissa Sosa in the first place. And it surprised her how vehement she felt about it, toward a woman she, _really_ , barely knew. But on some level they all had trusted Sosa once it became obvious the relationship was steadier than a one night stand. Trusted her to treat him right, and him not to break her heart.

"Look, I'm going to remind you of what you already know," said Laura, drawing his blue eyes to her green ones. "When serving in the line of duty, all that matters at the end of the day is the people you care about, who you're loyal to."

Her gaze flitted over to his hands hanging limply between his legs. Before she knew just what she was doing, Laura took them in hers, hesitantly when nerves almost got the best of her. She squeezed them gently. They were a little cold, calloused and larger than hers, but his fingers curled over hers tentatively. That gave her the resolve to say what she really thought, at the cost of maybe going over some unspoken line between them.

"Those are the ones you always want to protect; the ones who are worth your time and effort…Sosa put whatever fears she had and her career over any feelings she had for you, and that kind of person doesn't deserve what you were willing to give her."

It took him a while to reply, his gaze steadily on their entwined hands. In a rare moment of clarity through his stupor, he looked up and gave her a small, melancholic smile.

"Even a conman?" Her mouth quirked up into a grin.

"A _good_ man," she corrected, "who would do anything for the people he cares about."

Face's smile twitched upward a little more genuinely as his eyes searched hers. For what, she didn't know. Maybe for a sign that she meant what she was saying, and she did.

She saw it in the way he respected and admired the Colonel, tried with everything he had to do his best by him. Took care of B.A. whenever they needed to sedate him for a flight, making sure he wouldn't wake up face down on the floor or in any other similar uncomfortable positions.

Face Indulged in Murdock's daily eccentricities and helped him through his darker ones, dealt with his manias with a sense of humor and talked him through his episodes when Laura couldn't be there for him.

Whatever faults, Temp wasa good man. And Laura could admit it took her a long time to really see it. Maybe too long.

"I guess I just have to suck it up and move on, huh?" he said.

She smiled a little and let go of his hands, but pat his shoulder fondly.

"Not alone, you don't."


	5. Delayed Instinct

**AN: Thanks to all the awesome people who reviewed, Hanane EL Mokkadem especially for making me want to write this next chapter already. Sorry for those I've kept waiting.**

* * *

 _ **Renegade**_

Chapter 5 – Delayed Instinct

 _ **3 Years Later  
A U.S. Army Base in Iraq  
1400 Hours**_

The next time Laura saw Charissa Sosa, the woman was marching through the army base in civilian clothes like she was the highest ranking officer on base. Until she found the A-Team enjoying something nearly unheard of: downtime.

They'd just gotten back from their eightieth mission at 0500 that morning, and Laura's team of nurses had seen to patching up their relatively injuries. Face had borne the brunt of it with a long, but mercifully not deep slice on his arm, near his wrist, and two gunshot wounds—one that had grazed his side and one they'd retrieved from his shoulder. Now the man was tanning in the kitty pool he'd somehow procured at Murdock's insistence, while the latter grilled steaks using his famous (or infamous depending on who asked) Secret Sauce.

From her perspective Laura could see B.A. tinkering with the gears of a Harley Davidson motorcycle, though any relaxation they'd been having was successfully cut short at the abrupt arrival of the newly promoted Captain Sosa.

"Wow. So I guess you said no to the kids, no to the family. Just no ladder you can't climb, right?"

"No, honey, I just said no to you."

"This is crazy. _Three years?_ We haven't seen each other for three years and this is what we're gunna talk about?"

"What would _you_ like to discuss?"

"Did you take my Steely Dan CD?"

"…I'm not even going to respond to that."

"We listened to it like nine times in a row. We were drinking that crappy Cabernet, you remember that? Oh, wait. We were doin' something else, what were we doing? It was in a bedroom. You don't remember?"

"The only thing I remember is leaving, which…is my fondest memory of you."

There was a long stretch of silence in which Murdock, B.A. and Laura had to pretend they weren't listening. That they weren't pissed the fuck off.

"Listen," Sosa began again. "There's a rumor going around about some top secret plates being smuggled out of the city by Saddam loyalists. Do you know anything about this?"

Face shrugged.

"Seriously, if you're going to make a play for these plates, I'm waving you off right now, because it's _my_ responsibility and it's _my_ ass," she told him. He lifted his feet out of the kiddy pool to check if they were pruning yet.

"I'm _serious._ Face."

"Hmm?"

"I will _court marshal_ you."

"Ooh, okay—"

" _Hey_. Get the memo, and stay the hell out of Bagdad."

The captain stood and turned in a fluid motion and was already halfway to the next set of tents by the time Face angrily crushed his beer can and threw it into the kitty pool. He sighed and avoided looking at his friends, who knew better than to say anything, though the two shared a brief, grim look.

Laura saw the exchange from her perspective distance, the tent adjacent to theirs, but close enough to catch what was said. Where she silently simmered, gripping onto her plastic bag of pills and clenching her hand almost too tightly over the syringe inside.

It was just her luck that Sosa, after briefly talking with two of her subordinates, chanced her luck at finding General Morrison's by heading into the medical supply tent by mistake. Laura attempted to hasten out of the entrance without Sosa noticing her, but the taller woman was more perceptive than Laura would've liked to give her credit for.

"Oh, wow. Lt. Murdock," she said incredulously. "I should've known you'd be around here." Laura wanted to roll her eyes, but instead looked up at the captain with a forced incline of her head in acknowledgement.

"I'm stationed here, Lieutenant," Laura replied, trying her very best to leave out any dryness to her tone.

"Actually…it's Captain now," she said, looking slightly uncomfortable. She always had around Laura (with the exception of one night in Face's apartment years ago), and the feeling was mutual. Well, in the lieutenant's case, it was a bit more than that.

"Oh, really?" she replied mildly, feigning innocence, "Congratulations."

Both women knew her words were hollow.

"Isn't the hospital on the far side of the base?" asked Sosa.

"Yeah, but I have an hour or so of downtime now that things are slowing down," said Laura. Sosa looked down and gestured to the bag in her hand.

"Looks like you're on duty," she remarked. Laura forced a polite smile that was more of a piss poor attempt.

"I'm just getting Face his painkillers and some antibiotics for his IV," she said tightly. A fleeting look akin to concern crossed her expression, so short that Laura almost missed it. The woman hid it well behind her black aviators, but it was part of Laura's job to be fairly adept at reading body language. 55% of communication is made through it, and is essential when analyzing a patient receiving psychiatric care. Most of the outward signs of PTSD, what she usually helps treat, are nonverbal.

"What happened?" Sosa asked casually, with an air of indifference as to if she got an answer out of Laura or otherwise.

Laura dropped her half-assed smile. Any pretense of civility was given up the moment Sosa pretended to care about his wellbeing. She'd just seen Face, had most likely seen the wounds he was nursing. Yet that didn't stop her from saying things she _knew_ would hurt him.

"Forgive me for being frank, _Captain_ , but since when do you care?"

Laura would have walked right past her, but she was unfortunately stopped by Sosa.

"Laura, wait," she said, and when the other woman turned, she saw the tight, hesitating expression on her face. It elicited no sympathy from the lieutenant. Whatever Sosa would have said never had the chance to escape her lips.

"What right do you have?" asked the lieutenant, fighting the urge to raise her voice and spite the officer who now technically out-ranked her. Instead she said, "Excuse me, Captain."

It disgusted her really, and Laura, far from perfect, knew how pretentious the thought sounded. She couldn't help it though.

She left the captain there, not bothering to look behind her as she made her way over to her friends and brother. Face still looked disconcerted, though he buried his anger far better than she did.

"Here, this should knock out the pain for a few hours. Let me know when you need more," Laura said, removing the needle before handing him the plastic bag holding two round pills. Out of her messenger bag, she pulled out a bottle of water and gave it to him.

"Thanks," he said, giving her a thoughtful look. "Did I just see you talking to Charissa?"

She didn't respond right away, focusing on injecting the fluid from the needle into his IV. It got the attention of B.A. and Murdock, who gave her similar suspicious looks. Murdock's subtly slipped into a sly grin.

"That woman," she muttered, though she was mostly concentrated on the syringe in her hands. "Honestly, Face, you sure know how to pick 'em."

Face raised his brows.

"Oh, really?"

"You ripped her a new one, didn't you?" Murdock asked, earning a mildly surprised look from Face and an amused one from B.A.

Laura couldn't keep a small smile off her face, making her brother hoot with laughter.

" _Laura…_ " Face groaned, then sighed as Laura pulled up a chair next to him. She contemplated patting his hand that had the IV taped on in a half placating, half comforting gesture, but thought better of it. He would see it as patronizing.

"I heard the whole thing," she said knowingly. "Anything I said after was well-provoked."

 _Could've been worse_ , she thought, but she tried her best to respect a ranking officer, no matter her personal opinions of them. _If she was still a lieutenant though..._

"Did she say something to you?" Face asked. "She usually doesn't disrespect _everyone_ I know."

"It doesn't matter, Face. Just forget about her and you'll be fine."

Laura restrained a sigh and ran a hand through her hair. While it was too hot to let loose, the dark strands were gathered in a loose bun. But since the cut was so short, three inches over her shoulders, pieces kept falling by her cheeks and on the back of her neck that was already slicked with sweat. The mid-day, Iraqi sun was roasting her alive, as it did every day, but she contented herself with the thought that they'd be out of here soon enough.

"Why would she come back though? It's been _three fucking years_ , you'd think there'd be more to it than that," he said in frustration.

"Man, I'm sorry, but it ain't worth it," B.A. interjected. It was surprising; the sergeant usually left it to Murdock to say those kinds of things. Face was a little surprised, but gave B.A. an amused grin all the same.

"Think so?"

The other three merely gave him blank looks.

.

.

.

Laura had to pretend she didn't know of their intention to take the mission into Baghdad, even after General Morrison gave Hannibal his non-official nod of "good hunting."

"Be careful, all right?" she told her brother after the Colonel briefed them of the situation with Lynch, the CIA agent, Morrison, and Black Forest's original claim on the mission to bring back the plates.

"Now where's the fun in that?" Murdock teased her, but squeezed her affectionately anyway.

"Jamie," she warned, pulling out her childhood nickname for him. Yet there was a traitorous smile on her face, even after she pulled away.

"All right, I promise," he said. She smiled gratefully.

"I've gotta get back, but good luck to you guys," she quietly addressed the team, in case anyone outside the tent could hear. Hannibal looked up from a sheet of blueprints and smiled around the cigar in his mouth.

"Thanks, kid," he said, and she offered a lazy salute. B.A. nodded to her, also with a smile, while Face tossed a grin over his shoulder.

"Stay out of trouble," he called. Laura smirked.

"Where's the fun in that?"

.

.

.

She had to walk by the Black Forest tent on her way back to the nurse's station. She hadn't meant to, but glancing to her right she saw Brock Pike, commanding officer of Black Forest, standing with who she thought was the CIA agent between two tents. Her walking speed slowed unconsciously as she watched their lips move, though she couldn't hear what they were saying.

When her eyes met Pike's steely gray by accident, she immediately looked straight ahead and kept walking.

.

.

.

The scene played in her head over and over, and she didn't understand why. It wasn't as if she had heard what they were talking about, but she couldn't help but wonder why CIA would be talking so privately with Black Forest.

Her first thought would be to talk to Hannibal.

Laura checked her watch and sighed. The Team had already been gone for six hours.

 _Should I go to Morrison?_

He might still be awake, but it was another hour before her shift ended.

 _What would I tell him anyway? Yeah General, I saw an agent and an officer having a private conversation that I didn't hear because it was private, and I have no proof that there's actually anything wrong with that._

It just…hadn't felt right.

"Laura?"

"Hm—yes?"

"There's an officer asking for you at the front desk."

"Oh," she said with slight confusion. "Okay, thanks."

She made her way to the front of the large nurse's station until she came to the open entrance, where Brock Pike was waiting for her.

"Lieutenant Murdock?" he asked. Laura blinked in surprise.

"Y-Yes, that's me. How can I help you?"

"I just have a couple questions for you. Do you have a minute or two?"

His voice was calm, but contained some grit to it even as he seemed honest enough. She had never spoken to this man in her life, yet there was something in his eyes that she couldn't place. Maybe it was the piercing quality of them that made her uneasy.

"I'm still on duty—"

"Please, it would only take a minute."

Laura held her breath without meaning to. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded her acceptance. Pike smiled a little, and guided her mere feet away from the station, though they were heading closer to the edge of the base where various vehicles were parked at the ready. She thought this was plenty far enough for whatever conversation the man insisted on having.

"Excuse me, but I believe this is far enough. What is it you wanted to discuss?" she asked.

"You're the captain's sister, aren't you? Hannibal's team?"

"Yes, but what does that—"

An arm reached around her and cloth was pressed over her mouth and nose. She tried not to inhale, but if she didn't she wouldn't be able to breathe. Her vision blurred, and then the world around her swirled, tilting on its axis, until blackness ate it up.


	6. To Me, To You

**AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. You guys are awesome! ;) This next chapter will seem a little sporadic, but that's to make sure I don't bore you with recapping a plot all of us already know. Let me know what you thought!**

* * *

 _ **Renegade**_

" _Oh mama, I'm in fear for my life  
from the long arm of the law_ _  
_ _Lawman has put an end to my running  
and I'm so far from my home_ _  
_ _Oh mama, I can hear your crying  
you're so scared and all alone_ _  
_ _Hangman is coming down from the gallows  
and I don't have very long,"_

— _Styx_

Chapter 6 – To Me, To You

 _ **1 Hour Later  
A U.S. Army Base in Iraq  
2300 Hours**_

Murdock's ears were still ringing from the blasts, but his brain was still desperately running on overdrive trying to catch up with what his eyes were seeing: hundreds of thousands of dollars going up in smoke, General Morrison's jeep obliterated, and fire catching onto the nurse's station tents.

Twenty or more guns were on them, but none of that mattered right now because the _nurse's station was on fire_.

They wouldn't listen to him. Even as they were cuffing him they weren't _listening_ when he said his _sister was still fucking in there, damn it_. His team, to their credit, had recovered from the shock of their situation (being fucking _set up_ and _arrested_ ) to try and help him, but it wasn't any use.

They brought the Team into custody without him knowing if his sister was okay.

.

.

.

" _Colonel Smith, this court has not been able to recover any direct order from General Morrison for you to conduct a mission for which you are being tried."_

" _Your Honor, this was a cover operation…and no official orders were given."_

" _So the one individual who can verify the legitimacy of this operation is deceased, is that correct, Colonel?"_

" _ **No**_ _, your Honor, not deceased. General Morrison was_ _ **murdered.**_ _"_

.

.

.

An officer handed him a sheet of paper before General Russell Morrison's funeral. There were maybe ten names printed, but all he could read was one.

 **LIEUTENANT LAURA ALICE MURDOCK**

Due to the severity of the fire, her body could not be identified among the deceased, yet none of the surviving officers witnessed whether she left the station before the fire began. By all accounts, it could only be assumed that the lieutenant never left her post.

.

.

.

" _Where's the plan, boss? Where is it, where's the escape hatch?"_

" _Face—"_

" _Because I don't see it."_

" _This mission isn't over, lieutenant. I clear our names, we find Pike and the plates. No matter what."_

.

.

.

"We have to find them," Murdock murmured to Face. Morrison's headstone, soaked by rain, stared up at them.

"Who?" Face asked, just as quietly.

"Whoever did this." Murdock's fists clenched in the pockets of his uniform pants. "He's gone, and...and _she's_ …because of them."

Face's hand clamped on his shoulder, and Murdock had to squeeze his eyes shut. He was already shaking.

 _My Louanne…_

In the end, it was Hannibal who steered Murdock away.

 _I'm sorry._

.

.

.

" _We were all participating in this operation willingly."_

" _I don't want to be tried separately."_

" _I refuse to be tried separately, sir."_

.

.

.

" _Be careful, all right?"_

" _Now where's the fun in that?"_

" _Jamie."_

" _All right, I promise."_

.

.

.

" _This court is rendering guilty verdicts for each of the members of this alpha unit, or A-Team. Mandating incarceration in separate maximum security facilities, for a period of up to ten years."_

 _ **This isn't fair.**_

" _You are all hereby stripped of formal rank, and dishonorably discharged."_

 _B.A.'s muttered, "_ _ **This is bullshit**_ _," only barely registered._

 _ **We don't deserve this.**_

" _This courtroom is adjourned."_

.

.

.

"Are you gunna eat your carrots?"

Murdock looked up at the older man across from him, currently coloring within the lines of a birdhouse in a sketch book.

"Here ya go, Herald. Don't swallow 'em all in one go."

"Thanks, cap."

White walls surrounded him, barred windows, plastic utensils. A bed practically made of cardboard.

He could hear her now.

" _I swear to God, if you pull some shit like this again, I'm going to find the steak knife I know you have stashed in the lining of your mattress and kill you myself."_

Lying on the cardboard bed, all he had time to do was think.

 _Could I have...if we had just gotten back sooner…if we had never left?_

He couldn't prove it, but he was weighted with an instinctive, bone deep thought: if they had never left, there wouldn't have been any reason to blow up the nurse's station.

.

.

.

They put him back on electroshock therapy first chance they got.

With every turn of a dial, Murdock could only think about whether there was a body still under the debris of a burnt military station, or if there hadn't been a body to find to begin with.

He worried about Face, Hannibal and B.A.

He wondered what they were doing and if they were okay, wherever they were. He hoped Hannibal had something up his sleeve, but deep down—under the pills and the mushy carrots—he remembered a stern man that might have been his father before his mother's funeral.

This same man who once told him,

" _Wishing is for children."_

Lying on his cardboard bed, all he had time to do was think.

 _Are you really gone?_

All he had time to do was remember.

.

.

.

" _Shh, shh, it's okay," she soothed, and pushed the hair away from his sweaty forehead and rubbed his back when he leaned on her, resting his head against her shoulder._

" _I-I…" he shuddered._

" _It's okay now."_

" _S-Sorry…'f I scared you…"_

" _No, brother. You couldn't scare me."_

"' _m sorry."_

" _Stop apologizing, silly."_

 _Her fingers ran through his hair, over and over until the sweat on his body dried and he was just shaking in her arms, rocking back and forth with her._

 _Eventually he pulled away and laid back down in his bed, but still held onto her hand._

 _She leaned down and kissed his cheek softly._

" _Love you."_

 _He kissed the back of her hand and let her go, and his eyes closed as the door shut behind her._

.

.

.

" _Wishing is for children."_

He wished she was here.

He wished all of them were, so he could be home.

Only on that first night, when he was finally alone in his cardboard bed, did he allow any tears.

.

.

.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way."

Green eyes glared up at him with newfound hatred.

 _It didn't._

"They aren't hurt."

 _You probably have no fucking clue._

"And they, and you, will stay that way…as long as you remain cooperative."

 _How_ _ **dare**_ _you?_

She leaned in close to him, as close as she could while being bound.

"People like you deserve worse than death."

"Maybe," Morrison agreed. "But until then, welcome to your room."

It was a lavish hotel room, but one without windows.

The former general shut the door before she could spit in his face.

Only when she was alone, alone in a bed that was far too comfortable, did she allow herself to cry.

.

.

.

Face wished he could call Murdock, but even with all his charm the one thing they would never do was give him the location of the facility where his friend was being held. He knew enough that it would be a psych ward though, and that killed him.

As comfortable as he could probably make himself in here, he knew he would be okay. B.A. would be fine, and Hannibal was Hannibal. But Murdock just lost his sister.

" _Those bastards at the VA almost ruined him. Never gave him a chance before they rubber stamped the 'insanity' bill on him, only let me see him once a month while I was trying to get him out…I thought Mexico would be the rest of our lives."_

He'd promised her it was over. Hell, he'd promised Murdock.

Face never thought he'd be proven wrong.

If he thought about her too long, there was a clench in his heart that he couldn't shake.

 _I'm sorry, Laura._

He missed her, and he already missed his team.

.

.

.

 _ **Six Months Later  
Army Confinement Facility  
Fort Carlson, Colorado**_

Hannibal slid his clearer black and white photograph over to Lynch.

"Frankfurt, Germany."

"How did you get that in here?"

"Time, Lynch. Give me a minute, I'm good. Give me an hour, I'm great. Give me _six months_ , and I'm _unbeatable_. I know Pike. Who's the Arab?"

"We don't know. We think he's the deep dark, hidden hand in this whole thing. Maybe a broker, maybe a buyer."

Hannibal searched Lynch's eyes for any deception before glancing back down at the photograph. Beside the Arab was a woman, identified as such by the Niqāb she was dressed in and the submissiveness of her posture, as well as the dark makeup around her eyes—the only truly visible portion of her face and body.

"And the woman?"

"A wife, probably."

.

.

.

Face honestly didn't know what to think when he saw Hannibal outside that tanning booth.

For all of ten seconds.

Irritation was first; his parole hearing was only a week away.

Then there was begrudging gratefulness, followed by the high of freedom and the resulting adrenaline kick from the prospect of revenge.

Finally, there was hope.

 _B.A., Murdock, we're comin'._

.

.

.

 _They just don't get it._

He really hated to see the disappointment on their faces, but he didn't know how else to say it.

"I can't kill anybody."

Face and Hannibal blanked.

"…What do you mean?" the colonel asked.

"I've taken a vow."

"A _vow._ "

"Of non-violence. I'll still do anything for you guys, you know that," B.A. assured them. "…But I just can't kill, man. Old habits may die hard, but…they still gotta die."

.

.

.

 _ **Army Psychiatric Hospital  
Manheim, Germany**_

It was the best 3-D movie he'd ever seen. So lifelike.

"Oh, Captain? Your chariot awaits!"

The second he saw Face, he knew it was okay to smile. _Really_ smile, for the first time in six months.

And being able to get B.A. on a plane with him in the pilot's chair?

 _Priceless._

He couldn't help but picture Louanne rolling her eyes, but laughing as she found a seat behind him.

His stomach clenched painfully as something in his chest twinged, but he swallowed past it and pushed the level that would send the aircraft accelerating forward.

Never had he thought he would be getting shot down by his own country.

Never had he thought in his lifetime that he would get to fly a tank either.

.

.

.

She'd tried escaping through the air vents.

She'd tried fake choking before kneeing her captor in the groin, but hadn't gotten very far.

She'd tried placing a call to the local police, tried escaping through the bathroom in any public place they entered, but with each escape attempt came a harsher punishment.

 _Jamie._

Thinking of him got her through every single one, and would continue to until she was dead.

" _I'll never stop," she told him._

" _We'll see," was Morrison's insufferable answer from his insufferable face. She leaned towards him, unafraid. This was not the man she was afraid of._

" _I know who you are," she said. "I know what you are."_

 _Morrison leaned forward as well._

" _Which is why you're here," he smiled. "Why you'll always have to be."_

" _Why, though?" Finally, she asked the question that had burned within her for months. "Why would you take me when I had no idea?"_

" _Because if you are anything like the captain," Morrison drawled, and leaned back into his chair. "You're just smart enough. Tell me. When you saw what you saw, what was your first instinct?"_

 _She blinked, pursing her lips._

" _If you wouldn't have come to me, you would've gone to Hannibal."_

 _Her eyes narrowed._

" _Couldn't have_ _ **that**_ _, then."_

 _Morrison looked down for a moment, smiling dully, before meeting her furious gaze again._

" _Pack your things."_

" _Where are we going?"_

" _Germany."_

"… _Why don't you just kill me?"_

" _Why would I do that?" he asked, as if genuinely confused. "You might come in handy someday."_

" _Or I'll be your biggest regret."_

.

.

.

 _ **Königsbank Tower  
Frankfurt, Germany**_ _**  
**_

She was forced along as part of his entourage into the bank. Up the elevator to the twentieth floor, and was secured at the elbow by one of his hired guns.

 _I have to get out._

She had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked out the large windows of the private room.

She had no idea that they were about to shatter from the impact of an incoming projectile. The sheer force of it sent her crashing to the floor with the wind knocked out of her, and she could barely see with the black fabric raised over her face.

When she had her bearings enough to fix the headpiece so she could see properly, she was watching a masked and heavily armed figure bursting into the now broken window and tossing in tear gas. She shielded her eyes the best she could from her position on the floor, knowing it was useless, but for a split second through all the chaos she thought she heard:

" _Murdock, here's the Arab._ "

When she looked up blearily, the man was gone. And so was Pike and Morrison.

 _ **Get out get out get out.**_

Coughing from the burning sensation in her lungs and throat, she scrambled to her feet and ran out the door before any of the hired guns could stop her, full speed towards the staircase and shedding the Niqāb in favor of the black shirt and leggings she wore underneath; much easier to navigate an escape in.

.

.

.

B.A. limped as fast as he could through the parking garage, dodging Pike's bullets as he went, but eventually his leg got clipped again, sending him crashing to the pavement with the briefcase of plates still in hand.

"You made me work for this one, Baracus," Pike said, now walking calmly but steadily toward him. "I didn't think I was this out of shape. I am, unfortunately."

B.A. shifted onto his stomach painfully, trying to get his palms underneath him so he could at least sit up.

"Where's the rest of your team, huh? Smith, Peck, that idiot pilot, the asshole—what's his name?"

Pike kicked him hard in the stomach, but it gave B.A. the jumpstart he needed to get back on his feet.

"I'm gunna take this one out of your ass, Baracus," Pike chuckled, and grabbed him by his jacket, only to knee him in the ribs. "What are you doin'? What are you, tired?"

"I'm not gunna hurt you, man."

"No, you're not gunna hurt me. I'm gunna hurt you."

Pike's punch sent him reeling onto his back, but his reflexes were still enough intact that he was able to pull a gun from his belt and aim it at Pike's chest before the man had a chance to pull his own.

"Oooh, careful."

"I'm gunna kill you, Pike."

"Right, _you're_ gunna kill me? I'm gunna kill _you_ , Baracus."

"Don't think I won't do it."

"I got two guns right here, just so you know. When you pull that hammer back it's on, okay?"

"I'll do it, I swear I will."

"What, you a coward?" asked Pike. " _Are_ you?"

" _ **Bosco!**_ "

The two paused. B.A.'s eyes widened, his gaze shifting to the figure standing behind Pike. Curiosity taking hold, Pike turned his head to follow B.A.'s line of vision, and he had to scoff.

"Laura?" B.A. whispered coarsely.

She was there. Pale, hair disheveled, with her eyes red and involuntarily tearing, but alive, and worried.

"You stay right there, princess," Pike said patronizingly with a subtle threat in his eyes if she dared to move. "I'll finish this in a sec, and we'll be on our way."

A silver sports car pulled loudly around the corner. It drove around Laura and rammed right into Pike, sending the man up and over the hood and to the floor with a heavy thud. Hannibal rolled down the window and glanced down.

"Whoopsie."

" _Daaamn!_ " B.A. exclaimed with a grin. He heaved himself with difficulty to his feet.

"You need a ride, big fella?"

"You're a life saver, man. I couldn't shoot him." B.A. then turned to Laura, still wide-eyed but now smiling through tears. He reached out a hand as he limped toward her. "Come on, hop in."

" _Laura?_ " Hannibal realized with no small amount of shock. She smiled a little wider and shakily made her way to B.A., who helped her into the car before climbing in next to her in the backseat.

"Hey, Colonel. Been a while."

.

.

.

Once they were safely away, B.A. hooked an arm around Laura's shoulders as she recounted her story from that night. The night they all lost.

By the end of it, she was crying into B.A.'s chest and Hannibal's grip on the steering wheel was white with strain. He met B.A.'s eyes in the rearview mirror, and the expression in their eyes were the same. Just shy of murderous (vow or no vow).

.

.

.

"You eat that cold?" Murdock asked.

"Anywhere I can get it," Face replied, spooning baked beans into his mouth straight from the can.

"There's a leak in the roof."

"There's a lot of 'em—"

They looked up at the sound of a car pulling up outside the abandoned waterfront shack.

"Is that them?"

"Yeah, come on."

" _Murdock_ ," Hannibal called. " _Face_."

The two quickly made their way outside, and were forced to stop.

Murdock's vision tunneled, until all he could see was his baby sister being supported by his chief. His baby sister that was supposed to be dead.

Then she looked up at him, tears in green eyes only a shade brighter than his own, and she smiled.


	7. Only Solutions

**AN: Thanks to everyone who have been reviewing and following this story! You guys are awesome.**

 **Chapter title by Journey.**

* * *

 _Renegade_

" _The jig is up the news is out they've finally found me_ _  
_ _The renegade who had it made retrieved for a bounty_ _  
_ _Never more to go astray_ _  
_ _This will be the end today of the wanted man,"_

— _Styx_

Chapter 7 – Only Solutions

 ** _Somewhere in Germany  
1200 Hours_**

" _Jamie…_ "

"I gotcha…I gotcha…"

He held her to him until he couldn't breathe. His tears melted into her hair and hers stained his shirt. They were both dirty and unkempt but alive, for the first time in months.

"Are you really my...my Laura Alice?"

She cried harder, and Murdock shushed her gently, eventually pulling away so he could wipe the tears from her red-rimmed eyes.

He kissed her on the forehead and she smiled. Gradually he pulled away entirely so Face could hug her warmly. Laura held on tight, fisting her hands in his jacket with her arms wrapped around his middle. He kissed the top of her head and she had to swallow past another round of emotion.

"Missed you," he told her.

"Missed you too, Temp," she sighed. He let go of her slowly, allowing Murdock to swing an arm around her shoulders as the five of them entered the shack together.

.

.

.

Laura had to watch their grief as their commander, the man they had trusted to lead them responsibly, their _friend_ was revealed to be a traitor, a kidnapper, and a murderer. Not to mention their betrayer.

She watched her brother, older than all of his team except for Hannibal, finally act his age. Despite his obvious fury and thirst for revenge, he somehow remained the voice of reason and pulled Face away from doing something he would regret.

"If you kill him—"

"Everything that we stand for he goes against—"

"He is our only evidence, we'll have no proof—"

"He's _ruined it!_ "

"Think about what you're doing, Face! _Think about it!_ "

"Whoa, Face, calm down—"

"If you can't handle it—"

"Just _stop!_ This isn't going to solve _anything_ —"

" _He kidnapped your sister!_ "

" _And you know how bad I wanna kill 'im? Do you? But I'm thinkin' with my head—_ "

" _He made a fool of us!_ "

" _Stop it_ ," Hannibal finally shouted, and looked directly to Face. " _Listen to me_ , outside! Everybody, _outside._ "

He grabbed Face's and B.A.'s shoulders and steered them toward the exit, while Murdock took one last look at the former General Morrison before turning to Laura. With a gentle nod and an outstretched arm, he beckoned her over, and he led her outside.

.

.

.

" _Hannibal, it's meaningless. What are you fighting for now, those boys?"_

Laura sat beside Murdock on the pier, shutting her eyes as the man's words carried.

" _Your rank?"_

Face clenched his fists that itched once again for his gun.

" _Your reputation?"_

B.A. stared at the tattoos on his hands, wondering who the fools really were.

" _They're shit. You're convicts. Plates, no plates, you are federal fugitives. And when they're done with ya? They just fuckin' burn ya."_

"Boss, could you do that?" Face asked, after the silence was starting to become too deafening. "To us, what Morrison did."

"No," Hannibal answered immediately, resolutely. "Never."

"Yeah, but you didn't see it comin' though."

"How long did you know it was him?" Murdock asked.

"Are you guys crazy?" B.A. said, and with a second glance at Murdock, "I know you are, but Face. Are you accusin' him?"

"Hey, _hey_ ," Hannibal stopped the argument there. "I'd rather face a firing squad than betray you boys. Don't let this tear us apart. Not now."

There was a heavy whir in the air that seemed to be coming from the west, steadily becoming louder. Hannibal shouted the command that sent them all diving into the frigid lake.

.

.

.

After getting themselves out of the lake and the plates out of the (totaled, more like obliterated) car, it was obvious that Morrison was dead. They had no way to clear their names, and Hannibal, for once, didn't know what to do.

But that was okay.

Face did.

A phone call to Sosa from an airboat cutting through the lake, was simultaneously a candid phone call to Lynch. It had the CIA agent on his toes, and thinking the team still had both Morrison and the plates, plus a location of where the hand off was going to take place.

A second phone call to Sosa had them flying a plane to a freighter in the middle of the Atlantic, making plans with red Solo cups and marbles, fireworks and heavy machinery.

Not to mention a mask that was made out of a little more than papier-mâché.

"For liiiife is but an operaaaaaaaa…"

Face continued looking at the plans laid out on the workbench in front of him.

"It's a bit off, isn't it," Murdock cleared his throat and tried for a higher pitch. Face smiled in belated amusement.

"Nah, it's good, it's—"

"Face, what's wrong."

Murdock took a seat across from him.

"Nah man, I'm just thinkin'. It's just, you know…we've always come back alive," Face said. "The four of us. Because of the old man."

"I know."

"I'm not him."

"Face, I know this."

"Murdock, I'm _not_ Hannibal."

Murdock leaned forward at met his friend's gaze.

"Who has the most to lose on this, Face?" He gestured to himself. "Me. And I trust you."

"Yeah, I know, Murdock," Face smiled, chucked a little. "You're _crazy_."

Murdock smirked and set his latest creation on the bench with a slight flourish.

"Not that crazy."

Face admired the helmet and met Murdock's grin with one of his own.

"Nice."

"Ain't it pretty? Don't tell Laura about it, though." Face shook his head, grin still in place as Murdock stood. "I actually better go check on her. She looked about ready to drop when I saw her last."

No sooner had he said this that the sound of soft crying reached them from the next room down the hall. Both men sobered, and Face didn't think he would ever see such a heavy look on the older man's face. It chased away the light, teasing air the pilot had used to put Face at ease.

"Want me to come?" Face offered. Murdock shook his head minutely.

"Don't worry, Faceman, I've got this," he said with a slight smile, and hastened into the next room. He found his sister curled up on the cot, arms wrapped so tightly around herself and making her seem so much smaller than he remembered. It took merely three strides for him to be at her side, pulling her into his arms, his heart breaking when she woke with a start before clinging so desperately to him.

"Oh, Louanne…"

Few things she could utter that actually made sense. What registered most was his name and " _don't go_ ," as if he ever would. He spent several minutes reassuring her through gentle words, a hand smoothing over her hair, and wiping away tears from a chilled face.

It reminded him of a simpler time when they were growing up. When he could actually take care of his little sister's scuffed knees and sick days and nightmares from things she wasn't supposed to watch on TV but did it anyway because she was a Murdock, and Murdocks were often too stubborn and too curious for their own good.

But this wasn't something he could smooth a bandage over or check for the monsters under her bed. With six months to reflect, he now realized he hadn't taken proper care of Laura in a long time.

"You're all right now," Murdock soothed in a gentle whisper. "I'm never gonna leave, ya hear me?"

 _Never again_ , he promised, to both her and himself. _You'll never be alone, and no one will ever hurt you again._

No one would ever get the chance, because he'd be waiting with an M-16 and a stick of C4 for whoever wanted to try it.

* * *

"We should be there in a couple hours, kid. In an hour get the team together," Hannibal called from the doorway.

"Got it, boss," Face replied and put down the model helicopter he'd been toying with. He met the colonel's gaze and nodded. Smith did the same and gaze a small smile before continuing on his way. Face's stare shifted down the hall, where the sound of crying had died down and been replaced by soft humming. He decided to stand and make his way into the hall.

" _Niña bella, esta niña bella…_ "

Murdock's smooth, tenor voice carried from inside the next open door. Even though it was soft, the hull of the ship was devoid of much sound beside the engines and voices tended to echo. He followed the sound until finding two of his friends.

" _La luna se pone felíz…cuando ella se duerme…_ "

Face smiled slightly at seeing Laura sleeping peacefully, her head pillowed by her brother's lap as he ran his fingers through her now long hair. He could see the dried tears on her pale face, but her body seemed more relaxed, less curled upon herself.

" _Niña bella, niña preciosa…La luna se pone una sonrisa_ ," Murdock sang softly, smiling at Face and encouraged him to sit beside him.

Face obliged and squeezed Murdock's shoulder comfortingly. He sat in silence and closed his eyes, leaned back against the wall as Murdock was and listened to the calming words. He'd heard bits and pieces of it before, but never the entire thing. Now that he heard it all put together the fragments made sense. They were actually beautiful in their simplicity as he mentally translated them into English.

Absently he wondered if Murdock had made it up, or if he'd heard it from somewhere. But with the little sleep they'd gotten over the past few days, his own eyes were beginning to feel heavy.

" _Cuando estás dormía…_ "

Silence filled the room for a long moment, only the sound of Laura's deep, even breaths audible. Face opened his eyes then, and upon glancing over he noticed the gravity in Murdock's eyes, hard as flint.

"If you get a chance to kill Pike, make sure it's slow. Not like Morrison."

Never had he heard the pilot as deadly as he sounded. Looking down at Laura now, who had always been the one to welcome them after a mission, provide a listening ear for his bullshit, and stay up with him during mid-summer nights…Face understood. He felt the same burning anger lingering at the surface.

It would be his honor and privilege. For his brother in arms, and for his sleeping friend.

"You got it, buddy."

"I'd do it myself, but I'll most likely miss it due to my part in the plan."

"I'll let Hannibal know." He'd almost included B.A., but since the latter was on his supposed vow of world peace or whatever, he corrected himself. "He won't be getting away."

Murdock met Face's steeled gaze.

"And I promise it won't be painless."

.

.

.

It wasn't. After his plan went into works, the only loose end was Pike, who made it easy to find him by trying to blast Face with a rocket. The fight was grueling, injuries earned on both sides, but surprisingly enough, it was B.A. who put everything back into equilibrium when Face's plan worked, almost completely without a hitch.

Lynch was revealed to the entire DCIS and military police as the traitor they were looking for, and Laura, standing next to Lieutenant Sosa, saluted Hannibal.

"What do you think will happen to him?" Laura asked Sosa as they watched the DCIS bring Lynch, or more accurately Agent Vance Burns, into custody.

"Incarceration," the former captain replied. "If it were up to me, he'd serve a life sentence."

But it was obvious she didn't think the agent would stay that long. Unfortunately, there were gaps in the system that people like Burns tended to exploit.

"Well," Laura sighed. "At least the guys are—"

"Hey, get off!"

Laura turned at her brother's outcry and gasped as Military Police officers began apprehending Murdock with cuffs, along with the other members of the Team who resisted as physically and vocally as possible. She turned to Sosa and saw that the woman looked just as shocked and confused as she was.

"What the hell is—" Laura cut herself off and glared up at the taller man approaching with a smug look she immediately wanted to slap off of him.

"Well, that's one hell of a mess," said Director General Macready as he came to stand beside Sosa. She attempted to wrangle out an answer of him as to why he was there, but he all but ignored her, holding up a hand to silence her. "But we did get the plates."

His line of sight shifted from the wrecked harbor to the four men being restrained by military officers, all worse for wear and _angry_.

"Unfortunately, I'm going to have to charge you all with escaping lawful custody."

He didn't sound all that regretful, but Laura was going to make sure he would be.

" _What?_ Hannibal, what's this guy talking about?" B.A. demanded, all the while struggling against the three MPs holding his arms back.

"We were wrongly convicted, but it's still illegal to break out of jail," Hannibal reminded ruefully. That didn't stop him from remaining rigid when officers tried to pull him toward a van that would most likely take them to their incarceration. Sosa silently fumed, but she knew Laura's tentative hold on her temper was about to blow a fuse, so she stepped in before the lieutenant did something rash.

"Director, Smith and his men were instrumental in recovering the plates," she said earnestly. The general didn't even spare her a glance.

"They're still level ten fugitives, and I need that off my desk," he said firmly.

" _This is chicken shit, sir._ " Her tone made him actually look over at her coldly, matching her furious eyes with his sharp ones.

"Well, perhaps for them it's chicken shit, but for you, _captain_ ," at this she rolled her eyes, "we're re-promoting you to your former rank. So look, they're going to be delivered to the US Marshals here in Long Beach, and—"

" _Hey!_ Who the _fuck_ do you think you are?"

Sosa closed her eyes and groaned inwardly. The director general delicately raised a brow as his attention shifted to the young woman currently glowering up at him with livid green eyes.

"They've done _nothing wrong—_ "

"I suggest you _stand down_ , Lieutenant, before I charge you with abetting the escape of federal fugitives," he said coolly, though his eyes belied his anger at her blatant disrespect.

" _Abetting?_ " Laura shouted incredulously. "They _saved_ me from a _corrupt_ military general, exposed him for what he was, then literally _handed you_ the asshole CIA agent who tried to steal the plates _in the first place!_ "

Her face was turning red with the force of her anger while her hands trembled. Sosa, several MPs and the team looked on with mixed expressions of surprise, wariness (mostly from Sosa and the four apprehended men), and fascination.

"Are you going to become a problem?" he asked, peering down at her through the thin rims of his glasses. Laura laughed mirthlessly.

"Oh, Director, I'm about to be your long-term problem," she promised, and pointed back to the team gazing at her with wide eyes (at least Murdock and Face were. B.A. was grinning wildly while Hannibal looked torn between concerned and longsuffering).

"I told you," Murdock whispered to Face. "You've never seen her angry."

Mentally he wanted to slap a hand over her mouth and drag her away before she did something stupid, like get herself arrested.

"I'll go to the US Marshalls in Long Beach right now and tell them— _everyone_ —the truth. And I'll make sure they hear you're the one who wanted to cover it up," she said grimly. He smiled at her patronizingly.

"Who do you think is going to listen, Lieutenant? One woman's voice against the whole of the Military Police?" His voice was low with the thinly veiled threat as he leaned down slightly. Inwardly she felt the wall of her confidence begin to crumble, but outwardly she kept her ground as she stared up at him.

"You're not the whole military. You're just a man."

His thin, barely there smile was truly something to behold. It made her want to punch him square in the face.

"Laura," Murdock warned. Her eyes flitted over to him and caught his pleading expression.

 _Please_ , he thought. _Your freedom—your life isn't worth it…_

She ignored him.

 _Sorry, Jaime. This is_ _worth it._

"You don't want to try me," he promised. "Unless you want to end up—"

Her right hook caught him just off the jaw and made him stumble back into two officers. Really, he shouldn't have leaned in so close.

Face and B.A. whooped their encouragements while Murdock, despite himself, howled with laughter from the mere shock of witnessing it. Hannibal allowed a smirk to curve his lips, but it was soon replaced by a frown and a call of warning that fell on deaf ears as Laura's arms were pulled forcefully behind her back.

"Now you can charge me with assaulting a federal officer!" she shouted at the (poor excuse for a) man, who fixed his glasses and held his jaw tenderly. He glared and barked out to the MPs holding her, "throw her in with the rest."

Sosa watched with a heavy gaze as Murdock tried in vain to kick at the officers holding his sister, though he did receive a hit to the side of the head by an MP, which resulted in Face intervening and a whole slew of struggling before three of the five were wrestled into the van.

"I'm a Harry Houdini!" Murdock said as they pushed him along. "You'll _never_ be rid of me!"

"Let's go, keep moving," said one of the officers.

 _This is wrong_ , she thought.

She made a decision that she should have made a long time ago.

"Stop, wait," she commanded, fully aware that the director general was back in his car with the tinted windows up, probably nursing his bruised jaw. "Wait!"

Sosa stopped the officers holding Face and came to stand in front of him.

"This is so wrong," she said to him, touching his chest lightly, trying so desperately with her eyes to show him how sorry she was…for everything she'd never done. He gave her a grin that so many times had made her laugh without fail, had assured her that he _couldn't_ fail.

"Don't worry about it," he said. His eyes looked down softly at her.

"It is, and I'm going to do everything I can to fix it," she whispered earnestly.

"I know you will." His voice was steady and firm, and she believed him.

"I'm so sorry, Face…" Now more than ever she wanted to make him believe _her_ , and it was about time she started proving herself to him.

Sosa leaned up and pressed her lips to his, wanting to sigh into his as he deepened the kiss. Soon his lips curved into a smile over hers, and all too soon, she pulled away. And she walked away from him knowing she would see him again. It would probably be a long time though, and she hoped to God it would be.

* * *

The van began to move, but all of them were silent. They were all cuffed and bruised, some still bleeding, angry and hurt by the country they had lost their freedom fighting for. Laura leaned into Murdock's side as her gaze was cast to the floor. Until she heard,

"Nice plan, Face." Hannibal's tone wasn't altogether sarcastic, but the underlying question was, _any more bright ideas?_

"Yeah, we just traded Lynches and we're going back to prison," Murdock added grimly.

"We returned the plates. We can hold our heads high," said Hannibal. "We did the right thing."

"Yeah, after what they did to us," B.A. remarked gruffly. "This is bullshit."

"They burned us again, Hannibal. We trusted the system and it turned on us," Murdock said, a note of defeat in his voice. Hannibal's drive never waned though. He was treating their capture as a minor setback, though Murdock and B.A. gave him tired looks.

"Remember, no matter how random things might appear, there is still a plan," he insisted, and looked over to the conman who appeared to be smiling to himself. "Kid…"

The conman looked up at him with a shit-eating grin.

"Well, I don't mean to steal your line, boss, but uh…"

A slow smirk stretched across Hannibal's face, while Murdock and Laura looked up with dual expressions of wonder and excitement. B.A. chuckled.

 _Well, I be damned_ , he thought. Face let his smile widen, revealing a small key enclosed between his teeth.

"I love it when a plan comes together."


	8. Roll With the Changes

**AN: I've decided to make the change from past to present tense for the sake of pacing. I almost decided to continue this in a new story because of it, but to make it easier for readers following this story, I'll just be continuing on in** _ **Renegade**_ **instead of creating a "sequel."**

 **The title's borrowed from the REO Speedwagon song of the same name.**

* * *

 _ **Renegade**_

Chapter I: Roll with the Changes

There are a lot of small towns in Texas.

In eight regions of 106 counties, there are over three thousand towns and cities, filled with more ghost towns than big cities like Dallas, with a population of over a million.

Sally has lived in Childress, Texas since the population was less than five thousand. Growing up on her father's cotton farm, she knew how to ride a horse before she was teetering on her feet. She also knew as the eldest of four, chores came before anything else, and started when the sun was only thinking about coming up.

She's sure that ingrained discipline and routine is what got her a military man—Air Force. Or maybe it was her cornbread.

But at a ripe old age of seventy-five, standing on the porch over farmland she's always known, Sally thinks that maybe her routine is getting older than her.

The front door slides open, wood scraping on wood the way it shouldn't have if her husband had fixed the hinge like she asked him to three days ago.

"What're you doin' out here?" he asks, gruff and almost surly. He isn't awake yet.

"Go drink your coffee, I'm just lookin'."

"Lookin' for what? It's 4:30 in the mornin'."

"For some peace an' quiet, Harry. Grits are already on the table."

"Peace an' quiet? A pin ain't dropped in twenty years."

"Just eat your breakfast."

He won't be agreeable until he has a full stomach.

"Sal," he says gentler, more serious. Finally she looks over at him.

"Has Jed called?" she asks. "About the…corn shipment."

His eyes don't change, but their fifty-seven years tell her what he's going to say before it comes out of his mouth.

"Not yet."

He lays a hand on her shoulder and steers her inside.

* * *

Sally's routine suffers a stroke the moment the house phone finally rings, stirring the quiet house and rousing her from an unintentional, post-breakfast nap. Harry gets up from his reclining chair with a grunt and answers with a less gruff "Hello."

"Yeah?" he says. "Okay…well I appreciate it, Jed. Thanks."

"So?" she asks. Nerves make her grip the sofa's arm a bit tighter.

"Corn's in."

Not ten minutes pass before there's a knock on the door, and the couple look to one another.

Sally gets up and goes to the door, taking in a steeling breath before turning the knob with a shaking hand.

Standing on her porch are several haggard looking people in clothes that don't look like they fit right. She only really recognizes two of them—a tall, thin man and a young woman, both brown-haired with green eyes like her own.

"Hi, Grandma."

* * *

Face watches Sally Murdock unravel in front of them, taking in Laura who hurries into her arms, and dragging down Murdock to her height so she can kiss his hair. He can only assume it's Harold Murdock standing behind her, a former general in the straightness of his back and the way he shakes his grandson's hand.

"Good to see you, sir," Murdock says softly. Harry nods, hesitating slightly before patting him on the back. Then the man's gaze is on the three strangers waiting on his porch.

"It's an honor to meet you, General," Hannibal says, and introduces himself, then B.A. and Face with their ranks.

"Colonel," Harry nods when he shakes Hannibal's hand, and gives the other two a cursory glance.

"I take it those are your former ranks," he says quietly, but it's enough. Sally looks over at him a bit witheringly after letting go of her grandchildren.

"Where's the corn truck?" Harry asks.

"Your friend at the warehouse gave us enough time to slip out the back of it," Murdock says. "It's prolly half way across the county by now."

"You trust him," Hannibal asks, his question more of a verification than a question.

"Jed won't say anything to nobody," Harry says, but there's something guarded in his eyes, as well as defensiveness for a man he's known for thirty-five years. "He's a good man."

"Good," Hannibal nods belatedly. Sally casts both men a glance, then rests a supportive hand on Laura's back.

"Let's get you all inside," she says. "I've made grits and sausage biscuits."

* * *

"You've barely said a word to your grandchildren."

She knows her tone is clipped, but she doesn't rightly care. The carrot being slid under her chopping knife is getting sliced thoroughly.

"What do you want me to say? They're _fugitives_."

Harry peers just over his newspaper and sees the group past the gap in the wall to the living room. The colonel sat with Baracus on the couch watching the news while his grandson and granddaughter were in the middle of a card game with…

It takes Harry a second to remember the man's name, but "Faceman" eventually came up after the third try.

"We could be arrested just for talking to them, let alone housing them— _helping_ them," he continues, lowering his voice.

Sally sets down her knife on the chopping board with enough force to surprise him.

" _Them?_ " she whispers furiously while pointing toward the living room. "We _raised_ them."

Harry is quiet for a moment.

"Sal—"

"They didn't do it, Harry," she says. "You heard Smith. They were _framed_."

"What proof do we have of that?" he asks. "Their word. Used to be that's all a man needed…not today."

Sally stares at her husband of fifty-seven years and, for the first time in a long time, really sees his age.

She doesn't realize her granddaughter is in the room on until Harry looks up, setting down his newspaper on the round table.

"You don't believe us?" Laura asks him, and she's nearly swaying on her feet in both anger and exhaustion. "Captain Anders—my superior. She came to your door, didn't she? To tell you I was dead?"

Tears stream down her cheeks, and though Harry is stone-faced, his wife holds her hand over her mouth.

"Six months. I was locked in a room," she says shakily, then points to the men suddenly silent in the living room. "They saved me from the General Morrison you knew and respected and went to his goddamn funeral for."

"Why?" Sally asks. "Why you?"

Harry looks down at his hands flat on the table.

"He got a Black Forest thug to take me on a _maybe_. _**Maybe**_ I'd ask the right questions."

Laura's voice is bitter and she can't actually meet Sally's eyes. It's hard to remember but she remembers it all.

"He blamed it all on them, made it look like it was their fault."

"Then why," Harry asks, softer blue eyes meeting green, "are you a fugitive?"

"The Director General," Laura replies after counting down from ten in her head, "wanted to shove it all under a rug. I told him the truth, he didn't care."

"What happened?" Sally asks.

"He had me arrested for assaulting a federal officer."

"What did you do?" Harry asks in alarm.

"I assaulted a federal officer," Laura says calmly.

Harry mutters a "Jesus Christ," while his wife gasps.

"He had it comin'," Laura insists, and her grandfather glares at her.

"Why the hell would you do an idiot thing like that?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, what _should_ I have done?" she exclaims. "Should I have shook his hand and said 'thank you for the bullshit,' and walked away?"

"You were taught better," he says tersely, and stands abruptly from the table. "And if I taught you _anything_ , I sure as hell taught you respect."

" _I wasn't gunna let them take my brother!_ " Laura shouts. It was the first time in her thirty-six years that she'd ever raised her voice to him. "Not without me."

Harry's stare on her is hard.

"You would've better served him free."

* * *

"I'm sorry for this, Murdock," Hannibal says quietly. It's after 10:00p.m. and Sally has laid out the two guest rooms and the bed in the attic with fresh sheets for B.A., Face, and Hannibal. Laura has been locked in her room for hours and the elder Murdocks have already turned in for the evening.

"Sorry for what?" Murdock asks. He's shuffling playing cards, but not humming or mumbling something for his own amusement as he would've.

"That it's come to this," his leader says, "with Laura, and coming here…we could've kept them out of this, out of danger."

"Laura made a choice," Murdock answers eventually, more serious than Hannibal might've expected. "I've just gotta…live with it."

"Live with it, huh?" Hannibal raises a brow.

"It was a dumb thing to do," the captain acknowledges, "but can't say I wouldn't 'a done the same thing."

"And your grandfather?"

"Gramps…he fought in World War II. He's a war hero," Murdock says. "It's hard for him to accept what's happened…to either of us."

He sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"It was wrong, us coming here," he says lowly. "But Gran will over pack us for the trip and…and guess I was thinkin' of Laura, her needin' to come home while we got the chance."

Hannibal took this in, then nodded and stood from the discarded card game in front of them.

"Think it's time for me to call it a night, Captain," he says, but lays a hand on Murdock's shoulder before passing by. Murdock looks up at him with question in his eyes.

"It's all right to miss them too," Hannibal says, giving a small sad smile and closes the door to the guest room that doesn't house a snoring Face.

Murdock later stares at the walls of what used to be his room, and he thinks he should've fallen asleep a long time ago. He should be comfortable after a shower and a night spent in his own clothes. Sleep just isn't happening, even if he knows for a fact that he's exhausted. Soon he's waffling over if he should turn on the TV or just get up all together. Then the growling of his stomach pretty much makes that decision for him.

But it's midnight and the light in the kitchen is already on.

His grandfather is there with a pint of Ben and Jerry's in front of him.

"That better be Chunky Monkey," Murdock says. "I ain't seen monkey's chunked in a long while."

Harry looks up, caught with the spoon in his mouth. Murdock raises a brow when the spoon slides out of his mouth.

"You always managed to catch me," Harry muses dryly, but not without something melancholy in his eyes, "when the ice cream came out."

"Every kid's got a radar," Murdock says with a quirk of a smile, and a bit hesitantly points to the chair on Harry's right, "this seat taken?"

His grandfather shakes his head and gestures with his spoon for him to sit. He does, but not after grabbing a spoon from a drawer.

They take turns scooping from the pint until there are only miniscule bits of chocolate and cream stuck at the bottom.

"I'm sorry," Murdock finally says, "for comin' here. Last thing I wanted was to make trouble for you and Gran."

Harry shakes his head a little.

"Why did you?" he asks. "Decide to come here, I mean."

Murdock blinks, then lets out a deep breath that has his shoulders sagging a bit.

"It was selfish," he admits. "We…might not get back to Texas for a long while."

 _If ever_ , his mind finishes, and it's a sullen thought that Harry sees on his grandson's face. There's a man sitting in front of him where a nine year old boy used to be, tugging on his shirt tail and playing with model air planes they'd put together with tubes of glue and hand-painted parts.

"The day you told me," Harry says, "you wanted to be in the army, I had already known."

He looks up at green eyes that never failed to remind him of the boy's mother.

"I knew you were born to fly, like me," he admits. "Was…the proudest moment of my life. If your daddy had been alive then, would've been his too."

Emotion prevents Murdock from answering right away, but he blinks past the moisture in his eyes.

"Mom woulda been proud of Laura."

Harry nods, wiping his mouth with his hand. His daughter had possessed a gentle, yet obstinate spirit that had made her one hell of a nurse at a hospital just half an hour out of Childress.

"Your colonel…he explained to me what went down six months ago. What happened after…you all deserved better than what you got," he says, sighing heavily and running a hand down his tired face. "I understand now, why you had to do it…just wish you hadn't had to."

Murdock looks up then, surprise evident in his eyes. Harry gives him a sardonic look that's tempered by something deeper.

"I'm old," he concedes, "but not old enough to forget what foreign soil felt like. Decisions made under fire—with people you trust with more than your life when the world's gone cockeyed, and people you shouldn't. People who been away from home long enough to forget who it was you're goddamn supposed to be."

Harry shakes his head.

"I'm glad it didn't happen to you."

"…Thanks, Gramps," Murdock says, his voice soft. "…I just wish I wasn't putting you in danger by bein' here. I guess…Hannibal will wanna leave in the morning."

"I'm too damn old to be worryin' about bein' put away." Harry folds his hands under his chin with his elbows on the table and meets his grandson's gaze. "I'll talk to the colonel, see if y'all can stay one more night to get your feet under ya."

Murdock ignores the spark of hope that flares and nods, "We'd appreciate that."

* * *

"Where'd you learn to peel potatoes, girl?"

"It's been a while!" Laura defends indignantly. "I can't get the damn knife right."

"That's a sorry sight," Sally remarks. "You're hackin' up more potato than skin over there. Just put that down an' start breakin' up green beans."

"Fine," Laura mutters and sets down the mutilated vegetable and the knife on the counter. She reaches for the bowl of washed green beans and puts it down in front of her with maybe a little too much force, but begins to snap the ends off with a vengeance.

"I swear, you're worse than your grandfather," Sally murmurs, and opens the oven door so she can turn the steaks over. "Then again, he does it on purpose so I don't ask 'im to do nothin'."

"Oh God," a new voice calls from the open hall and into the kitchen. "That smells amazing."

"Should be," Sally says. "There's over twenty pounds worth of beef in there, and it's been marinatin' all night long."

"There's nothing for you to sneak away with, unless you want a hunk of raw potato," Laura calls, not even bothering to turn around. Face appears over her shoulder a moment later, breathing in her personal space.

"What are those?" he asks dully.

"Green things that you're gunna eat."

"But why?"

"Because man cannot live off fries and chimichangas alone."

"I don't think that's accurate."

"It's in the Bible. You were Catholic, right?" she teases. Face turns a wry expression on her, and while her eyes are on him, he grabs a green bean from the bowl.

"Was. Got tired of sitting in the box of shame," he says. "But if there's a God, I firmly believe he created the chimichanga."

She raises a brow, and before she can give a retort, he shoves the green bean in her mouth and reaches around her for a chocolate chip cookie from the jar he opened while she was distracted.

Laura spits out the vegetable in distaste and tries to get the cookie from him. They've only been here one night and already he thinks he can raid the pantry.

"Hey! This isn't your house, you can't just _take_ things—"

Face fends her off, holding his stolen treat as high as his arm can stretch. He has a good seven or eight inches on her, which he regularly uses to his advantage.

"But I'm hungry!"

"You can wait like everyone else!"

"But—"

"Okay, that's enough," Sally says, and breaks them apart. She holds out her hand to Face, who slowly gives her the now broken and crumbled cookie. She dumps it into the trash (and Laura elbows him in the side when he opens his mouth to say something), and plucks two new cookies from the jar. After grasping Face's hand and turning his palm up, she places them there and gently pats his cheek.

"There you go, dear. No more until dinner, now."

Face smiles with all the charm in his arsenal.

"Thanks, Mrs. Murdock."

Laura's mouth drops open.

"Grandma—"

"I already told your friends they could come and get anything they wanted from the kitchen," Sally says with a gleaming smile of her own. "And besides, Face so nicely asked me earlier, I told him to go ahead for that jar when he got hungry. But shush, shush, don't tell your grandfather. I never let him snack before dinner's on the table."

She then turns to Face sternly.

"I don't wanna hear anything but Ms. Sally come outta you when you talk to me, ya understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good, now get so we can finish cooking," she teases. "Feel free to watch some TV. I think Jamie and Bosco are in there now."

Laura watches him leave with narrowed eyes, her mouth still agape until she swiftly pivots on her heel and tears into green beans with renewed vigor.

"So," Sally says brightly while dropping potato slices into a pot of boiling water, "that's Face, huh? Interesting name."

"Yeah," Laura mutters, dropping beans into a second bowl she got from one of the cupboards. In her opinion, his real name was much more interesting. She liked to tease him about it, and often.

"You've known him a long time?" Sally asks.

"Yeah, since the first day we all met." Laura told her grandmother about that day a long time ago, but she still remembered it fondly now, even if their first meeting hadn't gone the best.

" _I see everyone's met Mr. Murdock," said Smith._

" _Met him? He lit my arm on fire!"_

Or so she remembered Face saying. Even then, he'd saved her that day from falling out of the helicopter. After that, it was like the pieces just fit right—Murdock and Hannibal and Face and B.A.

Laura had been okay with being the tagalong, if it meant her brother got to have his life back, if they got to be free again. After that rocky beginning, they never shut her out; never let her fade into the background just because she wasn't a part of their team. They never stopped being family to her. None of them.

"You seem to get along well," Sally says, breaking Laura out of her reverie, and she fails to see the knowingness in the older woman's soft grin.

"What—oh, Face?" Laura asks, "Well yeah, I guess. He's been one of my best friends…for years."

Sally hums in response, and it's only then that Laura has the sense to peer suspiciously at her grandmother.

"Oh—come on, _really?_ " she refutes. "No, Gran."

"What? Did _I_ say something?"

"Look," Laura says pointedly, "It's not like that, all right?"

"I didn't say _anything_ , dear. You're the one making assumptions," Sally says, but her smile hasn't dulled.

"He has a girlfriend," Laura says in annoyance. "And even if he didn't…just _no_."

"A girlfriend, really?" She sounds disappointed, and Laura doesn't know why that irks her as much as it does. "I guess I can't be too surprised…he's easy on the eyes."

To Laura's horror, her grandmother grins slyly as her brow raises.

"Please stop."

"Why? I'm just making an observation."

"Yeah, but you're over seventy. It's creepy!"

"What? I can't have eyes?" Sally lowers her voice and leans toward Laura conspiringly. "Can't say that back-end of his ain't worth lookin' at either."

"Grandma!" Laura exclaims, then mutters, "Jesus…"

She yelps when Sally swats her behind.

"That's for takin' the good Lord's name in vain."

"You cursed me out when I was thirteen!"

"Yeah well, you never snuck out the house again, I'll tell ya that," Sally remarked. "An' I never used the Lord's name once, so there. Go set the table, dinner's just about done."

Laura grumbled and fished in the drawers for silverware.

"What was that?" Sally asked.

"…Yes, ma'am."

* * *

"So where we goin' next, Hannibal?" B.A. asks that evening, when dusk is setting after dinner and the two are on the Murdocks' porch so Hannibal can smoke. It's been a stressful few days, and Harry probably knew that when he offered the colonel a cigar to seal the deal on persuading him to stay another day.

"Hard to say," he replies. "There's a lot of open road. We go south and cross the border into Mexico; we go east and risk getting caught, but we stay in the U.S."

"Mom lives in New York. Some cousins too," B.A. says after a beat. "Maybe they can help us out."

"What, hide us? We can't risk your family, B.A." Hannibal takes a long drag of his cigar and blows it out into open air. "We've done enough of that here."

"How're we gunna get by without bein' criminals?" B.A. asks. He's grateful for the Murdocks, and he's glad for Murdock and Laura getting to spend some time with their family. He just doesn't know how long they can continue hiding out here before the government catches up with them.

"It's a little late for that," Hannibal says wryly.

"You know what I mean—stealin' our way, stupid shit."

Hannibal sighs.

"I dunno yet, big guy. We'll…just have to think of something." He doesn't have the answers, and he hasn't had them for a while now.

 _Not yet_ , he reminds himself. _Not yet._

"Thinking of New York, I know a guy who can get us some paperwork…let me make a call, and we'll see if we can get out of here tonight."

* * *

Both Murdock and Laura spend time packing what they can while Harry and Sally equip them with what they can: clothes, toiletries, tools, food, and the like. Laura looks up at what's left of her pre-college bedroom and can't help the wave of nostalgia that brings her back to her childhood. Everything about this house surfaces those memories, without fail. Problem is, most of them are happy memories.

A knock at the door makes her jump a little (sudden noises tend to do that now). She relaxes when she realizes it's just her grandfather (though part of her tenses again).

"Wow," he says, looking up at the now barer shelves and counter space. She'd already collected what still fit from her closet—most of it being what you'd expect a teenager's clothes in the early 90s to be. She can only imagine how her brother is doing. But the Army did ship what was left in their apartment to her grandparents, with them being next of kin. So it wasn't too hard to find most of her clothes and personal belongings.

"Weird, isn't it?" she supplies.

"No more than usual, I guess." Harry scratches his chin and notices the bin of stuffed animals beside her bed. "Those have been sittin' there since you left."

Laura's lips twitch into a small grin, but it doesn't stay. They haven't talked since yesterday.

"Can I come in?" he asks hesitantly.

"Sure," she shrugs. "I'm just…trying to figure out what I can take with me."

Harry doesn't quite close the door behind him and sits on the edge of the bed, opposite her. After an uncertain moment of silence between them, he reaches down and grabs a stuffed animal with an orange body and a blue nose, ears, and feet. Laura laughs a little.

"Oh my God," she says. "I remember this thing."

"We never figured out if it was a rat or a koala," Harry muses, turning it over in his hand.

"Where'd you get this again?" she asks. "Brazil?"

"Yep. My last deployment…you were about four." A smile tugs on his mouth with the fond memory. "Your brother got a kick outta the remote control helicopter."

"Which he destroyed a month later flying it into a tree." Laura rolls her eyes. Harry nods.

"There was that."

"You didn't get mad though," she says. "I never understood it. He wouldn't stop crying for hours, and all you did was take us for ice cream."

"Sure as hell I was mad. That thing cost me thirty bucks," Harry chuckled. "But the poor kid was broken up enough, only seven years old. He just wanted to see it fly."

Laura, with her elbow on her thigh, rests her chin in her hand and sighs through her nose.

"You always encouraged him," she says quietly. She doesn't have one memory of her grandfather raising her voice to her or her brother. He'd never needed to. Not that their father had, but while she may have been seven when their father died, the strongest memories she had of her father were him not being there. It hadn't mattered if he was on deployment or not.

"Both of us," she continues. "And we weren't easy kids."

"No, you weren't," Harry agrees. "But I wouldn't 'a traded ya…you both turned out good."

Laura had to look down, avoid his eyes and cross her arms as she blinked back the urge to cry. She'd been doing it a lot recently, when she never used to. She never used to be that girl, the one that needed comforting, needed saving. A lot had changed.

"Sure about that?" she asks shakily. "Seems like we're pretty screwed up to me."

"Yeah, that's true," he says, and she tries in vain to smother her tears. "But you're a strong girl, darlin'. You've survived this far."

Laura shuts her eyes tightly as she cries, and only looks up when a large, solid hand is warm on her shoulder. Calm gray eyes remind her of cups of hot chocolate and autumn nights spent talking on the porch.

"You do what your brother tells you, Laura," he says. His eyes have never been more serious. "You've only ever been at the edge of a firefight, and now you've made a choice."

Laura is quiet for a moment, tears still slipping down her cheeks. Her lower lip trembles slightly. The truth was, it had been a selfish decision on her part just as much as she'd made it out of anger and hurt.

"I just…didn't wanna lose him," she finally admits, and sniffs. "Any of them. He's my brother, and…they're my family too."

She hadn't wanted to be separated after just finding them again. She didn't want to be alone.

"I know," Harry says. "But follow James' lead on this, whatever he or the colonel or any of them tells you. This ain't your world. It's theirs. And you gotta learn to live in it…or you're gunna get hurt."

He reaches into his pocket with one hand and grasps her hand with the other, then places a fattened envelope in her hand, closing it in both of his. She looks up at his face with confusion playing on hers.

"This place and all the shit in it will go to you and your brother someday," he says, "but for now, here's your combined inheritance."

"Grandpa, no…this is…I can't take this—"

"You damn well can and you damn well will," he says, and lets go of her hand. "You're gunna need to make it to New York somehow."

Laura's eyes widen.

"How did you—"

"Heard your brother and Face talkin'." Harry stands and makes his way to the door. "Them two together are a funny thing. Remind me of me and my brother…well, a long time ago anyway."

Before Harry makes it out of the room, Laura calls out to him softly. He stops and looks back at her with a hand on the doorframe.

"Yeah," he replies.

"Thanks," she says, and smiles, even if she can't smile fully. He returns it the best he can.

"'S what I'm here for."

"Grandpa," Laura says, stopping him again.

"Yeah."

"Jamie, he might never say it," she says, "but he joined the Air Force because of you, not Dad."

Harry stills at the door, but eventually smiles a little more, and nods.

He closes the door behind him with a gentle _click_ , and it's all Laura can do to bite her lip and finish packing her duffel bag.

* * *

At two in the morning, Laura watches her childhood home fade more and more in the distance from a piece of shit 1990 Ford Aerostar Wagon that's been sitting on the side of the road for months. Harry told them some guy broke down there and left the car there after it wouldn't start, claiming his cousin had a newer car waiting for him in town and he wouldn't get any money for it anyway.

B.A. and Face were able to get it running after a couple of hours, and they were on the road long before the sun was up. B.A. is behind the wheel, flying as fast as he thinks the old Wagon can handle down the highway while Hannibal is marking directions on an old-fashioned map Harry supplied, and guaranteed is accurate.

Laura feels a hand on her shoulder, and she looks up at gentle green eyes.

"Hey," Murdock says when tears start rolling down her cheeks. "Come 'ere."

He tucks her into his side and she sniffs into his shirt that's starting to partially dry her face for her. Face's watches sadly from the other window seat. Laura had agreed to sitting in the middle, allowing Murdock and Face to keep her at least somewhat protected, just in case the government found them while they were on the road and shot first, asked question later.

"We're gunna be okay, Louanne."

"It's never going to be the same," she whispers.

"No," Murdock murmurs into her hair, wraps his arm tight around her shoulders. "But, we're gunna stick together, all of us. Like always."

"Promise?" she sighs shakily, and her eyes catch Face's. He gives her a reassuring smile that has over a decade of conning in the process, just in case.

"You bet," he says.

* * *

It's a long night lying silently in bed and staring up into darkness. Long after the sun is up and her day is supposedly started, Sally still feels as if a part of her is standing on the front porch watching her grandchildren leave in a dusty pile of junk, without a plan, without a home.

Her body moves on autopilot, maneuvering in the kitchen as she does every morning with methodical, yet slower, movements.

 _I hope they have enough to wear. Enough to eat._

How will they contact her if they need help? Will they even be able to contact her at all?

What if—

"Sal."

Harry's hand is on her wrist, and she realizes she was about to overflow her mug with coffee, probably burning herself in the process.

Eventually she gets through serving breakfast, but as she stares at her cereal and toast, she doesn't really have an appetite.

"Did we do the right thing?" she asks. Harry looks up, slowly sets down his newspaper when he sees the look in her eyes.

"We did as much we could," he replies. "I gave 'em my three pistols and one of my shotguns."

Sally is quiet for a moment, digesting the fact that they'll most likely need those weapons. She just hopes it isn't anytime soon.

"We could've protected them here," she says. "We're in the middle of nowhere, we have room—"

"No, we couldn't," Harry says, but gently. "By now the government knows they've left California. Hell, they might even know they've crossed Texas borders. It's not easy for five people as wanted as they are to keep under the radar for too long…someone's gunna put two and two together."

"What do you mean?" Sally asks in worry. "They'll come _here?_ Whoever's after 'em?"

"An' I expect soon," her husband nods. "Doesn't mean we can't send 'em in the wrong direction."


	9. Stuck in the Middle with You

**AN: Ahhhh! Sorry it's been so long. But look, the next chapter! (There will be more I promise.)**

 **The chapter title is based off the song title by Stealers Wheel.**

* * *

 _ **Take It on the Run**_

" _Trying to make some sense of it all,_ _  
_ _But I can see that it makes no sense at all,_ _  
_ _Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor,_ _  
_ _'Cause I don't think that I can take anymore_ _  
_ _Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,_ _  
_ _Here I am, stuck in the middle with you,"_

— _Stealers Wheel_

Chapter 9: Stuck in the Middle with You

It takes a lot of pushing (respectful pushing) and nearly begging (she will not, nor will she ever _beg_ ) to convince Director Macready that she can still contribute to the case. She isn't leading it. No, that ship has long sailed, even though she can't be held at fault for the fuckwits who managed to let the A-Team escape. _Of course_ she can't.

But her public display of affection with one of the fugitives being led away in chains isn't exactly a secret.

So actually, formerly Lieutenant Charissa Sosa, now re-promoted, doesn't have any contribution to the re-capture, because US Marshals are handling it. Typical.

She can't contact Face at all, even if she wanted to (she does). The only thing she can do, realistically, is go on about her duties until he finds a way to get a message through to her. If he even needs to.

 _If he needs help, he'll find a way_ , she rationalizes. _He always does…_

If he doesn't…if he doesn't, she just hopes he's not getting himself shot at.

Which, realistically, he probably is.

* * *

" _No_ , you brought it?"

"Oh, I brought it."

"How did those fit in your duffel bag?"

"Have you seen this thing? I could fit a baby elephant in here."

"Well, I dunno about that—"

"Just plug in the damn thing already."

"What?"

Murdock and Laura turn at the sound of Face's voice.

"They brought our stuff from the apartment to our grandparents," Laura says, holding up a black and green console. "I found my Xbox!"

Face raises a brow.

"What are the toy guitars for?"

"Rockband!" Murdock cheers, and holds up the game too close to the conman's face. He pushes it away, though a smile of amusement tugs at his lips.

"Isn't that…kinda loud?" he asks. They were currently in some no name motel off the side of the highway, maybe twenty miles across the border of Arkansas. There are only two beds per room, so Face and Murdock are sharing, as well as Hannibal and B.A. Laura was happy to have her own room.

"We'll put the volume on low," Laura dismisses as she starts plugging in cords to an archaic TV. She had to wipe several layers of dust off the screen before she could even turn it on.

"And I'm sure Hannibal will love to see you guys playing video games when he gets back," Face mutters. Hannibal went with B.A. half an hour before to the nearest hardware store for some tools they'll need in the future to patch up the car.

"He told us to relax," Murdock says with a grin, "so that's what we're doin'."

Twenty minutes later and brother and sister were locked in a battle to the death, both set on Expert getting through "Don't Fear the Reaper" by Blue Ӧyster Cult. While Murdock stands on his bed, closest to the door and strumming madly, Laura's feet are planted on the carpeted floor.

Face sits on his bed cleaning the guns Harry gave them. The man kept them immaculate, but it's something methodical Face likes to do. There's something about it that helps alleviate his stress.

"Ya know, Hannibal said we should be teaching you how to use one of these," Face says, holding up one of the guns for Laura to see.

"I know enough," she jokes. "I was a great shot when we were kids, remember, H.M.?"

"I'll have to call your bluff on that, Louanne, seeing as you wouldn't know the first thing about shootin'," Murdock says. "As much as Gramps tried to teach you, you were always a lost cause. The dog would run inside as soon as he saw you heading toward the yard with a pistol—"

"Hey, I nicked the tree that one time!"

"After shootin' the shit out of a bird's nest! Poor things were wailin' and squawkin'—"

"You promised never to remind me about that!"

"You started it," he sasses. Laura rolls her eyes the best she can while getting through the guitar solo.

"Oh, very mature."

"Shut up and save me already, I'm on red!"

"And whose fault is that, Butterfingers?"

 _ **Saved.**_

"That'll be damn funny when your pillow is filled with peanut butter tonight."

"Don't you dare waste my peanut butter!"

"You know I will—ah, fuck, I didn't see that triple blue."

Laura cackles maniacally as her pinky finger presses down on the orange button and her other hand wiggles the Whammy Bar. "I am serving you nice and steamaaay…"

Murdock whimpers as his drums go on red again.

"Like chicken cutlets and Gran-Mama's cornbread," she adds, and tilts the guitar upward, saving Murdock for the third time.

 _ **Saved.**_

"You don't get one more 'gain. If you don't last for the next two minutes so I can finish the song, I'm gunna get out the ping pong paddle in my duffel."

"Oh please, madam, do not use the Accursed Paddle! How it stings," Murdock mocks in a British accent. Inwardly he laughs at how Laura's Texan origins come out when she's hyped up.

"I wouldn't test her, man," Face interjects, absently rubbing his arm. "She wields that thing like a fucking baseball bat. Left a red mark on my arm for hours."

"Next time, don't steal my Captain Crunch," Laura says sagely before letting the last chord ring out. She then relaxes and pumps two fists in the air, whooping in triumph.

 _ **98%  
Savior**_

Laura looks at Murdock's side of the small and somewhat flickering TV screen.

 _ **24%  
Unconscious**_

She and Face laugh at Murdock's misfortune as he pouts at them. There's a knock on the door, and Murdock peaks through the peep hole before opening it to B.A.

"Delivery," the larger man says, holding two large _Wendy's_ bags.

"B.A., they're makin' fun of me!"

"Bout time," the sergeant says with a smirk. He doesn't bother sparing the pilot a glance as he drops off the food on the nearest nightstand and heads out the same way he came in.

"I'll be outside workin' on that thing you call a car."

Laura smirks and takes off the guitar, laying it off to the side by the console. Murdock sets down the second guitar and dramatically jumps off from his bed to the floor.

"No one loves me. I must retire to wallow in my sorrows, of which there are many…"

"Nah, come here," Laura says, and raises herself on the tips of her toes to hook her arm around her brother's neck and pull him down, mussing his hair with her other hand.

"Nooo, not the hair! It's thinning enough already," he protests and grabs her around her middle. Face watches in amusement as Murdock starts tickling his sister's sensitive sides. She immediately starts giggling uncontrollably, in a way he hasn't seen her do since they did tequila shots in her and Murdock's apartment.

She recoils from Murdock, but his grip on her is too strong to break away from. Eventually she ends up sliding to the floor, Murdock following close behind mercilessly.

"Faaaace… _help meeee!_ " Laura pleads, and to Face she looks pretty helpless wiggling on the ground and trying in vain to push away her brother's fingers.

"I don't know," he crosses his arms. "What would you give me?"

She gives him a withering look while Murdock just cackles evilly.

"You can borrow my iPod!"

That's a shock. She barely lets anyone touch her iPod, let alone use it…

Still.

"Eh, got anything else?"

"I'll make you brownies…when we stay at a place…with an oven!"

That catches his attention.

"The good kind?"

"YES!" she cries pitifully through peals of laughter. "The goddamn slutty brownies!"

"Wait, what now?" Murdock pauses from his assault.

"Deal," Face says, and he tackles his friend to the ground.

It isn't until Hannibal comes in, having heard the noise from his room next door, that the ruckus comes to an abrupt halt and ends with Hannibal slapping Face upside the head.

The indignant protest that would've followed is swallowed up.

"We're being hunted and you're playing fucking _video games?_ The last thing we need is people hearing a racket!" Hannibal nearly hisses. He's seething and Murdock feels guilt swirling in the pit of his stomach while Face is staring firmly at the ground. Sitting on the couch beside Murdock, Laura stares down at her hands folded limply in her lap.

They all know if the former colonel wasn't worried about the paper-thin walls, the whole room would be vibrating with his anger, something that none of them often witness due to how controlled Hannibal is, both as a commanding officer and as a man.

Even B.A. feels guilty when the four come into his and Hannibal's shared motel room. He hadn't even bothered to stop their antics. He guesses he didn't want to; seeing them loose, and seeing Laura smile genuinely, hasn't happened since before the Team was dishonorably discharged.

"We need to make some decisions," Hannibal says, sitting on the edge of his bed. "My contact in New York can get us some new identification. Driver's licenses, social security, everything."

"Out of the goodness of his heart?" Face asks dryly. Hannibal gives him a silencing look.

"He owes me."

"But this is big," Murdock points out.

The truth of this settles in the room as the other four stare up at their leader, who's a little more hunched than usual, his stubbled face drawn and tired. Laura sees the fatigue in his eyes that drift to the old, carpeted floor; eyes that have seen blood, have seen dark, terrible things that she has only seen in the eyes of others like him—men and women she's treated and helped return to mental safety.

"I promised I'd take care of something for him," he admits.

"This the contact in New York you were talkin' about?" B.A. asks.

"The Bronx."

"So," Face says after a moment, "we're going to New York."

Laura watches Hannibal intently. The almost imperceptible sigh, the invisible weight on his tense shoulders, the way his eyes are suddenly sharp, and sweep across each member of his team before landing on Face.

She knows the decision he's made before he says anything.

"I am."

"Whoa, whoa, wh—"

"Listen, Face—"

"What the hell you sayin'?"

"Boss," Murdock interjects. "You're not seriously sayin' we split up?"

"How much longer do you think we can hide like this before the government finds us?" Hannibal asks. "Three is conspicuous enough. Five?"

He shakes his head.

"What, you're saying it's only a matter of time?" Face raises his voice. "We're a team. You're the one who said we don't split up unless it's a last resort—"

"What do you think this is? A vacation?" Hannibal says, his volume rising to match Face's as the two stand. "We've bought ourselves a couple weeks at most. It'll be easier to disappear—"

"And what, get normal jobs? Buy a house with a white picket fence?"

"Face—"

"If we split up," Murdock says, temporarily cutting through Face's tirade and earning Hannibal's attention. "They divide us, like how they jailed us. They find one, they're more likely to get all of us."

"We're a team. If we can't have each other's back…" B.A. trails, "it ain't worth it."

For a moment, Laura sees something she never thought she'd see on Hannibal's face. Uncertainty. She understands how he's torn—ensuring the safety of his team is, and will always be, his priority.

She feels like an outsider, but that doesn't stop her from trying when she sees pain, not just in her brother's eyes.

"I get it. I actually do, Hannibal," she says, "But if you go it alone, who protects _you?_ "

His eyes meet hers, and she feels like they're peeling back skin and looking inside. Then it softens, and she gets the feeling (and it wouldn't be the first time) he knows something she doesn't. And his lips twitch slightly, like he wants to smile.

"This won't be easy," he says, even though he doesn't need to.

"Easier than flying a tank, I reckon," Murdock offers, making Laura sigh. Face grins at the memory while B.A. shakes his head.

Hannibal rubs the back of his neck.

"Let's just get our shit together."


End file.
